


sunshine songs

by alanabloom



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Middle School, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanabloom/pseuds/alanabloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giving Erin and Holtz the "childhood friends turned slow burn teen romance" AU treatment, because it's my favorite trope ever.  Emphasis on the teen/high school era, with a side of sleepovers, ghosts, and mixtapes.</p><p>--</p><p>There's a tiny girl with wild blonde hair looking patiently up at her. Erin isn't sure of her name; she thinks she's in the other third grade class, but she looks at least a year younger than everyone else, especially with her overalls all splattered with paint, like she's some little kid who's been finger painting.  "What did it look like?  The ghost."  Erin stares at the girl for a second; there's nothing mean in her face, just curiosity, and she doesn't even seem to notice that Erin's still messily crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. track one: My Girl

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_  
_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May_  
_Well I guess you'd say_  
_What can make me feel this way?_  
_My girl_

 

* * *

 

Until she was eight years old, Erin Gilbert's life was entirely ordinary and unsullied.  The only really bad thing that had ever happened to her was when her parents made her get rid of her dog after he killed one of Mrs. Barnard from next door's awful old roosters.  Erin had cried and cried and begged her parents to change their minds, but Mrs. Barnard had made a huge deal out of everything, and even threatened to call the police - which Erin didn't understand  _at all_ , police aren't allowed put dogs in jail - if the dog wasn't gone.  

So that had been sad, and unfair, but a year after Corky went with her dad's friends who lived on a farm somewhere, Erin isn't as upset about it anymore, has even been thinking about asking her parents for another pet, maybe a smaller puppy that could live just in the house this time. 

She's in third grade this year, where she makes 100's on all her spelling and math tests, and never gets in trouble.  She has enough friends for a sleepover birthday party, and she really loves her parents.  She's a normal, happy kid.

Then Mrs. Barnard dies, and Erin's whole life goes sideways.

 

* * *

 

Her parents come into her bedroom on a Saturday morning to tell her, their faces sad and serious while they sit on the edge of the bed.  Erin is more scared than sad; she won't even miss Mrs. Barnard as much as she misses Corky, but it makes her stomach hurt when she tries to think about what it must be like to die, to go to sleep and just stay that way, not even dreaming, just _nothing_ on and on and on forever.

She asks a lot of questions.  _What makes a heart attack happen?  Can_ anybody _have one?  Can you tell if it's coming?_   Her parents assure her that Mrs. Barnard was very, very old, older even than Erin's grandparents in Florida, and that's why it happened.  They tell her she has nothing to worry about.

But Erin's stomach doesn't feel right out all day; she can't stop thinking about it, and periodically looking out the windows to Mrs. Barnard's house as more and more cars fill up the driveway.  She goes running to her mother around lunchtime and worriedly asks if the body is still in the house, and her mom hugs her and tells her _no_ , of course not, it's someplace safe until the funeral.  Then Erin has a dozen more questions about that.  

 

* * *

 

The first night, when Erin's ears pop and hurt so much it wakes her up, she screams when she sees the ghost.

The first night, her parents come running right away.  The ghost whooshes away just before they burst into her room, but Erin's still screaming, and both her mom and dad sit on either side of her on the bed, just like they had this morning, and tell her it was just a bad dream.

The first night, Erin mostly believes them.

 

* * *

 

The second night, her parents come running again, but Erin knows they're wrong about it being a dream.

 

* * *

 

The third night, only her mom comes when she calls.

 

* * *

 

The fifth night, no one comes.

 

* * *

 

The eighth night, Erin doesn't scream.

 

* * *

 

She's seen Mrs. Barnard's ghost twenty-nine times before her parents make her go see Dr. Potts.  Erin knows exactly because she keeps a tally mark count on the first page of her journal, and has started writing a few sentences about every haunting.  There usually isn't much to say, other than that the ghost stays longer now that her parents no longer come check.

Dr. Potts asks a lot of weird questions, like if Erin had ever been in Mrs. Barnard's house, or if the old woman had ever hurt her.  Erin frowns in confusion and tells her _no_ , Mrs. Barnard got mad if she even cut through her yard.  She definitely never would have invited her inside.  

After that, the therapist starts asking about Erin's parents: if they fight, if they spend a lot of time with her, if they do anything to scare her.  She doesn't even seem to want to hear about the ghost, even though that's the only thing that scares Erin, even though that's the whole reason she's here. 

Once when she's supposed to be waiting outside for her mom, Erin moves close to Dr. Potts' office door and listens.

" - her continued insistence that she's telling the truth suggests she hasn't gotten what she wants yet.  It's most likely just a bid for attention."

"What should we be doing here?  Attention is one thing, but surely we shouldn't be _indulging_ such a ridiculous lie...."

Erin reels back from the door at that, tears rushing to her eyes.  She just doesn't get it.  Her mom barely knows Dr. Potts, but believes the therapist over Erin, even though she's her _daughter_.  

Erin knows how important it is to tell the truth.  And her mom and dad know her best of anyone.

Or, at least, she thought they did.

 

* * *

 

That night, the forty-sixth time she's seen Mrs. Barnard's ghost, Erin just pulls the covers over her head and starts to sob.

When the crying gets kind of out of control, she presses her face hard into her pillow so her parents won't hear.

 

* * *

 

Besides her parents and Dr. Potts, the only person Erin's told is Deanna Crabtree, who lives down the street and comes over to play after school sometimes.  Deanna knows how mean Mrs. Barnard was, so Erin thought maybe she'd take this seriously.

She can't tell if Deanna fully _believes_ her, but at least she doesn't say Erin's making it up.  She just frowns and asks questions, so Erin ends up telling her everything, even the visits to Dr. Potts office. 

It's nice, talking about it to someone who doesn't try to convince her she's wrong.  _Really_ nice, actually, and Erin feels better than she has in a long time, until one Wednesday after school.  She's waiting in the third grade section of the car lot, looking for her mom's van among the snaking line of cars, when someone jostles her from behind, and suddenly a body spins in front of her, a boy's jacket draped over their head, making loud, stupid, " _Ooooooh_ - _boooooo_ " noises.

Worse than that sound though, is the laughter that springs up behind Erin, mean and sharp like pinpricks even before she turns around to see a bunch of kids clustered together, including Deanna, and Allie, and Tess - her entire lunch table of friends are laughing at her.  But it's Madison Beckett who speaks first, her whole group of popular friends nodding along, "Hey, ghost girl, is it true you take crazy pills now?" 

Stunned, Erin seeks out eye contact with Deanna, but she's just staring hard at the back of Madison's head.  "N-no, I don't take any - "

" _Boo_!" His jacket off now, Kyle Hammond leaps in front of her face, setting off another chorus of giggling.  Erin stumbles backward, her face burning as her head fills with airy panic.

"We heard you have to go see a doctor for crazy people."  

"And that you lied about seeing a bunch of ghosts."

"It was just one ghost," Erin blurts out in a desperate rush.  "And it's not a lie, my next door neighbor, she really died - "

"Oh my _gosh_ ," Madison shrieks.  "She actually believes it!"

Kyle wrinkles his nose.  "You're not a liar, you're just _crazy_." 

"Look, she's gonna _cry_."

"Only little crybabies would still believe in _ghosts_." 

Erin wraps her hands around the straps of her backpack, so tight that her fingernails dig hard into her palms.  She catches half of her tongue between two rows of teeth and bites until she tastes blood, but she doesn't care; she'd give anything in the whole world not to cry right now in front of everyone.

But she feels tears hit her cheeks anyway, so she turns away and walks to the very edge of the pavement.  Her vision's too blurry to tell if her mom's car is close. 

"Hey."  She feels someone tap her on the shoulder, but Erin doesn't turn around, because she's crying for real now, and it'd be worse if they see.  " _Hey_."  This time the person jerks on her sleeve, and Erin's head turns out of instinct. 

There's a tiny girl with wild blonde hair looking patiently up at her. Erin isn't sure of her name; she thinks she's in the other third grade class, but she looks at least a year younger than everyone else, especially with her overalls all splattered with paint, like she's some little kid who's been finger painting.  "What did it look like?  The ghost."  Erin stares at the girl for a second; there's nothing mean in her face, just curiosity, and she doesn't even seem to notice that Erin's still messily crying. 

Sniffling, Erin wipes her face with her sleeve, and she has to swallow a few times before she can say, "Why?"

"I wanna know.  Did it look all white with holes for eyes?"  The girl curls her hands into fists and presses them over her glasses lens to demonstrate. "Like this?"

"No," Erin answers softly, still wary, glancing over the smaller girls' head to make sure the other kids aren't close enough to hear.  "She...it just looks like my neighbor did.  Except...glowing."  She pauses, still expecting some kind of joke, but the girl is quiet and big eyed, waiting for more.  "And sometimes...sometimes it flashes and you can see her bones." 

"Does it fly?"

"It floats.  And then I guess it flies away, but then it just looks like a flash of light." 

The girl lets out an excited shout for no apparent reason; Erin jumps slightly at the sound.  " _Wicked_.  What else?"

"Um, what do you mean?"

"Does it taaaalllllk?"

"No, she just...watches me."

"Erin Gilbert!"

Erin turns her head at the sound of a teacher's voice, realizing her mom has pulled up to the car lot.  She flicks her eyes back at the blonde girl and mumbles, "I gotta go." 

"Ask the ghost what it feels like to fly!"  The girl calls eagerly after her, and Erin throws a confused look over her shoulder just before she climbs into the backseat of her mom's car.

 

* * *

 

"How was school, sweetie?"  Erin's mom always asks her that when they drive off from the school.

Today, Erin ducks her head, aware of the tear streaks still sticky on her cheeks, and twists her hands in her lap and answers, "It was good," because she doesn't want her mom to think she's trying to get attention.

 

* * *

 

The next day, no one in Erin's class will talk to her, except to call her Ghost Girl or jump out at her and yell _Boo!_   She tries to tell a few of the boys who try that that ghosts don't actually make that noise, but it only makes it worse.

But halfway through her class's recess, Mrs. Lockhart's class comes out to the playground, too, and that blond girl makes a beeline for where Erin's sitting by herself on the blacktop.  She's a few feet away from a sewer grate, but she hadn't noticed until the other girl sprawls out on her stomach and peers inside.

"Whatcha doin?  'S there a ghost down there?!" she asks excitedly, without even saying hello.

Erin blinks at her.  " _No_.  Why would there be a ghost _there_?" 

"I dunno.  Just thought maybe you see ghosts other places." 

Erin crosses her arms.  "Are you making fun of me?" 

The girl lifts her head at that, her chin resting on the metal of the sewer.  "Nope no way.  I wish there _was_ a ghost." 

"You shouldn't lay on that," Erin informs her.  "It's dirty." 

"So?" 

"So there's germs."

"SoooooOOOOoooo?" 

" _So_ that means you get sick." 

"So?" 

Huffing out a scoffing sound, Erin counters, "You _like_ being sick?" 

"I don't _hate_ it.  Sometimes it's fun to miss school." 

Well.  Erin can't argue with that.  She'd even wished to stay home sick today, had thought about faking a stomach ache or sore throat, but her parents don't even believe her when she tells the truth anymore. 

Even though she won the argument, the girl lifts her face off the ground and sits up on her knees.  She's wearing a huge football jersey over rainbow colored leggings.  It's weird. 

"Did you see the ghost last night?"

"Yes."  Erin draws her knees up to her chest.  She doesn't like talking about this anymore.  It feels like a trap.

"Good, cause I have some questions."  The girl draws a breath and then, without even stopping for air, rambles out, "When did you start seeing the ghost does the room get colder when she comes in when you said you can see her bones is it like she turns into a skeleton or you can see through her skin do you think it'd ever - " She's forced to stop talking when a kickball comes zooming at her head.  The girl barely ducks in time.

"Watch out, ET," the boy who kicked the ball sneers as he runs by the retrieve the ball. 

Erin makes a face.  "Your name's ET?" 

"Nah, that's what they call me sometimes.  Like the cool lil alien in that movie?"  The girl sounds completely matter of fact about it.  Erin isn't sure if she doesn't _know_ they're making fun of her, or if she just doesn't care.  The girl extends her pointer finger.  " _Phone home_ ," she intones in a weird high pitched voice, then grins; Erin notices she's missing both bottom teeth.  "My name's Jillian." 

Erin can't help smiling back.  "I'm Erin." 

"I _know_ ," Jillian says like that was a silly thing to say.  "Everyone knows who you are now.  You're the one who sees ghosts."

Her face heating up yet again, Erin mutters, "But nobody believes me." 

Still on her knees, Jillian shuffles a little closer.  "I do."

Erin tilts her head at her.  "Why?"

Jillian raises both shoulders and lets them fall.  Then she does it twice more.  "Cause why would you lie about that?"

Erin stares.  It's so _simple_ when Jillian says it; Erin doesn't know why her parents haven't. 

"Sorry," she says after a moment of silence.  "I forgot what questions you were asking...can you say them again?"

Jillian's eyes light up, and she happily repeats her litany of question, and Erin answers all of them.  It takes some time, but Erin eventually makes her understand that the ghost isn't a cool thing at all, that it's scary, and probably there because of how much Mrs. Barnard hated Erin when she was alive.  Erin even tells Jillian the one thing she's never even told her shrink: "I'm afraid....I keep thinking one night she's going to finally decide to actually hurt me." 

Jillian gets very serious when she says that, just nods and, when Erin finishes talking, starts making a long, drawn out _hmmmmmm_ sound.  Then, exhaling, she says, "I guess we'll have to figure out how to catch it."

Erin's chest warms at the _we_ , and just doesn't even care how ridiculous that sounds.  She gives Jillian a small, clumsy smile.

Just like that, they're friends.

 

* * *

 

"I wanna see the ghost," Jillian tells her on the car lot that afternoon.

"I told you, it's only in my room at night."

"So I'll sleep over," Jillian replies at once, like she's not just inviting herself over.  Like they haven't only known each other for, like, a day.  "Whattdya think, Friday night?"

"That's tomorrow." 

"Uh-huh."

"I have to ask my mom and dad."

"They'll probably say yes, right?  I'll bring my stuff tomorrow just in case." 

"You don't have to ask your parents?" 

"They won't care.  I've never slept over at someone's house, though.  Except my grandma's once.  Do I just wear my normal pajamas or is there something special?" 

"Um..."  It takes Erin a second to answer; Jillian makes her head spin.  "Just normal ones are fine."  As soon as she's answered, though, Erin starts to doubt herself.  She's only been to maybe two sleepovers herself; maybe she's wrong.

"Coooool," Jillian drags the word out and uses a funny voice; she does that a lot, Erin's already noticed. 

"Jillian Holtzmann!" A teacher calls out. 

Jillian grins at Erin.  "Th-th-that's me, folks!  I'll see you tomorrow.  During school, obviously, and then also after school and probably at your house."

 

* * *

 

 

Erin's mom is thrilled when Erin asks if she can have a friend over to spend the night, which is good, because after dinner, the phone rings, and right after he answers, Erin's dad smiles at her and passes over the phone. "For you." 

"Hello?"  Erin asks cautiously; she never gets phone calls, and her dad hadn't talked long enough for it to be one of her grandparents wanting to speak to her. 

"Erin?  It's Jillian Holtzmann."  Her voice is loud over the phone.  "My mom made me call and double check that it's okay for me to spend the night tomorrow." 

"My parents said it's fine." 

Jillian lets out a celebratory noise that makes Erin have to pull the phone away from her ear.  "Great.  I'll pack my stuff as soon as we get off the phone."

In spite of that pronouncement, Jillian makes no attempt to end the conversation.  Erin twirls the phone cord absently between her fingers. "So.  How'd you know my number?" 

"I found you in last year's yearbook so I'd know your last name, and then we checked in the phone book.  Got two wrong Gilbert's before this one.  They sounded fun, though." 

"You went to our school last year?"  Erin asks, surprised.  She doesn't remember Jillian from any of the second grade activities, so she'd assumed she must have been a new student. 

"Yuh-HUH, but I was in Mrs. Luca's class."  Ms. Luca is a first grade teacher.  "They skipped me up this year.  Mom says that's why I'm so short compared to everyone." 

Erin raises her eyebrows.  Skipping a grade must mean Jillian's even smarter than she is.  "How old are you?"

"Seven and one twelfth.  That means my birthday was last month." 

"Oh."  There's a longer pause this.  Erin wants to keep talking on the phone, though; it makes her feel grown up.  "Um.  What are you doing?"

"Talking on the phone to you."

That makes Erin giggle.  "I mean before, though." 

"I ate dinner with my parents.  And then before that I was taking apart my alarm clock.  Now I'm talking to you on the phone.  When we hang up I'll pack my stuff for our sleepover, and then I'll put the alarm clock back together."

"How come you took it apart?"

"Cause I wanted to put it back together."

 

* * *

 

All day on Friday, every time another kid looks at her funny, or calls her a name, she curls her fingers together and reminds herself that Jillian's coming over after school, and it almost makes her smile. 

She likes Jillian; she's _weird_ , but in a way that makes _weird_ almost seem like a good thing.  As far as Erin can tell, nothing seems to bother her, and she's probably smarter than anyone else in their grade.  It makes Erin a little jealous, sometimes, but Jillian believes her about the ghost, and that's the best and most important thing.

Erin's mom looks a little surprised when Jillian crawls in the car beside Erin - she's so _small_ , and she's wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and weird shiny pants - but then she smiles sweetly and introduces herself.  She asks Jillian a million questions, about her parents and her teacher and how old she is, and Erin wants her to stop talking because she's afraid Jillian might say something about the ghost.

"Mom?"  She says really fast when Jillian's just finished answering a question.  "Will you play the sunshine song?" 

"Sure, sweetie." 

Her mom switches from the radio to Erin's favorite tape in her car, already rewound to the best song.

_I've got sunshiiiiiine on a cloudy day..._

"I know this,"  Jillian exclaims.  "It's The Temptations." 

Erin's mom beams at them in the rear view mirror.  "That's right!  You like them?" 

" _Yah_.  My mom has this record."  Jillian draws a breath and starts singing, as loud and effortless as she does everything else.  " _My girl, my girl, MY GIRL, talking bout....my giiiirrrrrl.  MY GIRL."_

Erin loves this song, plays it all the time in the car, but she only ever sings along under her breath, like she doesn't want to drown out the real singers.  But Jillian's voice rides right along with the music, her shoulders and head moving along with it.  Erin starts fluttering her fingers along with the beat, held tight at her sides, but then Jillian grins over at her, and by the time the chorus comes around again, she takes a brave breath and joins along.

"YES!"  Jillian hoots in delight before rejoining the singing.  Erin gets louder, matching her friend, and then she catches her mom's eye in the rearview mirror, smiling at her in a way Erin's barely seen since Mrs. Barnard died.  It's a smile that gets all the way to her eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Jillian pushes her shoulder against Erin's when they get out of the car, walking sideways into her and nodding at the house next door.  "Is that where she lived?" 

"Yeah," Erin whispers back.  "They're not there anymore, but she used to keep roosters in the backyard." 

"More than just the one your dog killed?"

"There were like six of them." 

"Did they really cocka-doodle-do in the morning?"

"Not just the morning.  They made noise all the time."  

Jillian makes a gobbling noise that sounds mostly like someone choking on their own spit.  "Roosters are weird."

 

* * *

 

The first night Jillian sleeps over, they try to stay awake and wait for the ghost, a flashlight glowing between them in Erin's bed.  Erin's tried that before, wanting to see if Mrs. Barnard will stay away if she simply doesn't fall asleep, but she always loses the fight to exhaustion.

It's easier with Jillian there to talk to.  Even after the whole afternoon and evening together they haven't run out of things to say, and the last number Erin remembers seeing on her clock is 12:24, and she's super proud of herself from staying up past midnight.

But somehow, both of them fall asleep at some point, because Erin wakes up the way she always does, except this time Jillian's halfway on her pillow, one her legs slung over Erin's. 

Mrs. Barnard's ghost is hovering at the foot of her bed.

It's the seventy-first time Erin's seen her, and it still feels like she can't move or breathe for a moment, like this is just a nightmare like her parents used to think, except Erin's trapped in it.

Then the ghosts head shifts slowly, her eyes unmistakably landing on Jillian's sleeping form, and Erin remembers what she's supposed to do. 

"Jillian!" 

" _Mmmph_..."

"Jill, wake up, wake up _she's_ here - " 

Suddenly a wave of wind sweeps over Erin, throwing the bedsheet over her and Jillian's head. 

"No!"  She shouts out even though she tries not to make any noise anymore, nothing her parents will hear down the hall, but she can feel Jillian twisting awake, but by the time she's uncovered her hand the ghost is just a rush of blue light seeping out the window.  

Only then does Jillian fully opens her eyes.  "Wha' happened?"

"She left as soon as she saw you," Erin says in a tight voice, tears already crawling up the column of her throat because _of course_ this happened, the same way it always left before her parents got here.  No wonder no one's ever going to believe her, now even Jillian is going to think she's crazy -

"Damn," Jillian says at her regular volume, and the ease of the curse word nearly startles Erin out of her near breakdown.  "Didn't mean to fall asleep."   Jillian fishes the flashlight out from the covers and points the light at Erin.  "What's wrong?" 

"I just...I wanted you to see it....so you'd know I was telling the truth." 

Jillian sighs impatiently.  "I already know you're telling the truth." She tilts her head back and sniffs loudly.  "Do you _smell_ that?  I think I smell it."  She clicks off the flashlight, sounding exceptionally disappointed.  "I still wanted to _see_ it though." 

"My therapist makes me draw it sometimes," Erin offers.  "I could draw it and show you." 

"Okay," Jillian says, laying down again, further away from Erin than she was when they woke up.  "But next time I sleep over, we'll try a new plan.  Maybe have to be sneaky about it." 

"Sure," Erin agrees, glad for the darkness so Jillian doesn't see her smiling.

She's really happy there's going to be a next time.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, Erin's favorite part of the school day becomes the second half of recess, when their playground time crosses over with Jillian's class.  Erin likes to stay away from the other kids as much as possible, so they never play any games or even really use the playground equipment.  It's enough just to get to hang out with Jillian, the two of them sprawled out on the blacktop, far enough from the teacher's bench so the adults can't hear them talking, but close enough so maybe other kids will leave them alone.

Erin doesn't know if Jillian knows _why_ that's the reason for their minimal recess activities; the younger girl still hasn't given any indication that she knows kids make fun of them.

One day Madison and a few of her closest friends - which now includes Deanna Crabtree - walk by them and say, "Look, it's ET and Ghost Girl.  Probably talking to themselves again.

The _Ghost Girl_ nickname is common by then, but it stings fresh every time, and Erin ducks her head and hugs her knees, making herself as small as possible.  Jillian's expression doesn't waver, and she doesn't even look up at Madison or the others as they walk on past, but after a full minute of silence, she says out of nowhere, "Hey Eeeeeerin?"  She stretches Erin's name out, and her voice is pitched lower than normal.  Stuff like that doesn't even seem out of the ordinary to Erin anymore.  "You're my best friend." 

Erin lifts her head.  "Best friend?" she repeats in a soft, reverent voice, the words warm and glowing.  Even when she had friends, she's pretty sure she was never anyone's _best_.  There was always someone else they liked more. 

"Yuh- _huh_."  Jillian takes her glasses off and puts them back on for no apparent reason.  "Am I yours?" 

A smile blooms on Erin's face, and it's so easy to answer, "Of course you are."  She wants to say more, to explain that Jillian's the best friend she's _ever_ had, that that'd be true even if she still had all her old friends. 

But Jillian's already grinning hugely, and she starts talking again before Erin can even get all her words together, because everything that's hard for Erin is easy for Jillian.  "Good.  I wish we were in the same class.  The rest of the day is so boring now."

"Maybe we'll get the same teacher next year."

"We probably will.  My parents can request it and I betcha they'll let us." 

"Really?"

"Yeah they know Principal Reitman real well cause of when they decided I should skip second grade.  They were worried about me making friends with older kids, because of _social development_ , so if they say you're important to that he'll probably keep us together."

"Will your parents ask him if you ask them to?"

"For sure.  They want to meet you, though, they keep telling me to invite you over to _our_ house for once."

"I'd come to your house."

"Okay.  Not this weekend, though.  I wanna try to see the ghost one more time."

 

* * *

 

The second through fifth time Jillian sleeps over, she doesn't see the ghost.  Neither does Erin, actually, the only nights she's slept all the way through since this started.  It's like the ghost knows when Jillian's there, and knows not to come.

Jillian is always disappointed, and always has some new plan to trick Mrs. Barnard into showing herself, but Erin starts to love those nights.  Once she realizes her best friend really isn't going to start suspecting her of lying, Erin's nothing but relieved for the reprieve from her haunting. 

She falls asleep so easy with Jillian beside her.  The sound of the other girl's breathing, the apple smell of her shampoo, and even her freezing cold feet in the middle of the night....they become Erin's definition of _safe_. 

 

* * *

 

She first goes to Jillian's house during the last month of third grade.  Erin gets nervous when they call Jillian's name, and the other girl eagerly grabs her hand and pulls her toward a station wagon.  Erin's parents think Jillian's hilarious, and "good for her", and Erin wants Jillian's parents to like her just as much. 

"Hiya Momsie," Jillian greets when she bounces into the backseat, still holding onto Erin.  "That's Erin, this is her."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Holtzmann," Erin says politely, just like her parents told her to. 

"You can call me Maggie, sweetheart," Jillian's mom tells her with a warm smile.  "Until you get to the high school, of course, and _then_ it's Mrs. Holtzmann."

"Mom teaches art at the high school," Jillian informs her.  "I'm not good at drawing, but you are.  Mom,  _Mom_ , Erin is.  We'll show you her drawing when we get home." 

"Can't wait to see them.  I like to recruit my artists early."  She turns around and winks at Erin. "But then again, Jillian says you're a science nut like her." 

"Yes, ma'am, it's probably my favorite subject," Erin says shyly. 

Jillian's mom is pretty like her, with blue eyes and blonde hair currently tucked under a red bandana.  She seems younger than Erin's mother, or most mothers she knows. 

"Don't know where Jilly got that science brain," she says fondly.  "Soon me and her dad are gonna have to ask her how to fix things for us."

"You already do sometimes," Jillian asserts, then leans up between the front two seats to indicate the car radio.  " _Mom_ , put it on."

"Oh, of course," Maggie replies with a grin, pushing a tape into the tape deck.

The familiar bouncing intro of "My Girl" fills the car, and Jillian grins at Erin, proud of herself.  They listen to that song every time Jillian rides home from school with Erin.

"You have it, too?"  Erin asks her excitedly. 

"I taped it last night!  From the record."

Erin's eyes widen, impressed.  "You know how?"

"Mmmm- _HMMMMM_.  I can teach ya."  Then, barely pausing for breath, Jillian starts singing mid-verse.  Erin joins in slowly, though she's shyer than usual in front of Jillian's mom, but then Maggie turns up the volume and starts singing, too, and Erin feels her voice blending in.

It feels safe.  It feels happy.

(Safe and happy are starting to feel like Erin's definition of _Jillian_.)

 

* * *

 

As soon as they're in the Holtzmann house, Jillian pokes Erin in the side hands her her own backpack she'd just now put down.  "Show Mom one of those drawings you did." 

Obediently, Erin pulls out her art binder, but she hesitates when the first stack of drawing is just a series she did of the ghost, trying to show Jillian what it was like.  She's about to pick something else, but Jillian grabs right for the top sheet and thrusts it at her mom.  "See?" 

"Oh, wow," Maggie exclaims, not at all fake sounding.  "This is great, Erin...and so _imaginative_." 

"She didn't _imagine_ it," Jillian says impatiently.  "She - "

"Yeah, I did," Erin interrupts quickly, ignoring the pout Jillian throws her. "I just made it up."

" _Very_ impressive," Maggie pronounces, handing the drawing back.  Erin stands up a little straighter, basking in the praise.  "Promise me you'll try to squeeze in an art class with me in between all your chemistry labs, yeah?" 

Erin smiles.  High school seems so far away, but she likes the idea of both art classes and science labs.  "I will." 

"Not _me_ ," Jillian declares.

"I know, baby," her mother answers, but not like she minds.  She seems right on the edge of laughing.  "I've more than learned my lesson about forcing you to paint anything that isn't a wall."  She kisses the top of her daughter's head and smiles at Erin.  "You girls want a snack or something before I go paint?"

Jillian points at a kitchen cupboard.  "We'll find something."

"Just don't spoil your appetites.  Dad's bringing home dinner." 

Jillian's already emerged with a cylinder of Pringles.  She smiles innocently.  "We won't." Then she's got both hands splayed on Erin's back, walking her out of the kitchen.  "Come on come on come on."  When they're out of Maggie's earshot, Jillian tells her, "You coulda told her about the ghost.  My parents'll believe you." 

"I doubt it," Erin replies, really _feeling_ older than Jillian for maybe the first time.  At eight years old, Erin has already learned a hard truth: sometimes parents aren't on your side.

 

* * *

 

Erin likes being at Jillian's house, because it means she gets to learn new things about her.

Like how her mom teaches art and does painting on the side, and her dad teaches English at a college and has poems in actual books.  Or that they let her paint her own room, so it's purple with other colors splattered all over them.  Or that Jillian has collections all over her bedrooms of different machine parts: a whole mason jar full of springs, and one with just chains.  She even has a red tool box thats just hers, sitting on the floor with half its contents spilled out amid scattered Lego and Tinkertoys.  She has her own small record player, too, so she turns on music as soon as they get there, like Jillian can't bear anything quiet.

Jillian doesn't know much about hosting - she just flops onto the floor and starts tinkering with an old VCR - but Erin doesn't mind.  She just sits close by and pulls out her journal to draw in, content to just listen to her best friend talk.  No one crowds Erin's head like Jillian does; Jillian is words and noise and music, and around her, there's no space left in Erin's brain for the worried thoughts. 

 

* * *

 

Summer vacation that year is the best thing ever; Jillian's house isn't actually very far from Erin's, and as long as it's light out they're allowed to ride their bikes to each other's homes, so they're back and forth practically all the time. 

Erin's nine already by then, but Jillian doesn't turn eight until June - she was young for her grade even before she jumped ahead.  She doesn't want a party, but her parents drive her and Erin over two hours to a city with a big science musuem, and it's the coolest day ever.  After, they go to a restaurant where waiters sing _Happy Birthday_ and Jillian and Erin split a giant ice cream sundae melting onto a warm brownie.  They fall asleep together in the backseat of the car, one of the mixtapes Jillian showed Erin how to make playing quietly over the radio. 

Jillian's accepted the fact that the ghost will never show itself when she stays over at Erin's, so she sets them a new task: getting a photo of it.  She sneaks her dad's Poloroid camera to Erin's house one day, and presents it triumphantly to Erin right in front of her parents. 

"What's that for, girls?" Erin's dad asks, and before Erin can stop her, Jillian's announced that it's to take photos of the ghost.

Erin changes the subject fast, but she catches the look her parents exchange, so it's not a surprise that night, after Jillian's gone home - declining to spend the night so Erin can get her a photograph as soon as possible - when her mother tentatively begins, "Erin, honey...you know we adore Jillian, but Dad and I are a little concerned if she's got you returning to this ghost nonsense..."

"You were doing so well, princess," her dad adds.  "Even Dr. Potts thinks so...today was the first we've heard of it in awhile."

"It wasn't Jillian's fault," Erin protests, words tripping over each other in their desperate hurry to get out.  "She only said that because I did...we won't do anymore ghost stuff, I swear, please, _please_ don't make her stop coming over!" 

They assure her that isn't their plan at all, but they also make Erin leave the camera downstairs for the night, and Erin agrees, easily.  For the first time, she even feels willing to deny the ghost exists at all, to say she's been lying the whole time, if that's what it takes to keep Jillian. 

By the end of the summer, Jillian and Erin spend so many nights together, leaving Erin's room either empty or doubly occupied, Erin sees the ghost less and less even when she's alone, as if protection is something Jillian leaves behind, same as the smell of apples and the occasional curly blonde hair clinging to Erin's pillow.    

 

* * *

 

They're in the same class in fourth grade, just as Jillian said they would be. 

It's funny, seeing other kids react to Jillian in all her strangeness: the noises and the funny voices and the fact that her parents let her wear whatever clothing combination she wants.  Sometimes, Erin feels brief, guilty flickers of embarrassment - like when a boy comes to their table and asks perfectly nicely if he can borrow a green colored pencil, and Jillian says in this stiff, high pitched voice, "I-am-a-robot.  Would-you-like-to-hear-100-digits-of-pi?" until the boy makes a face and walks off to ask someone else.

But then Jillian'll grin at her and chase all the embarrassment away.  Jillian doesn't care what anyone but Erin thinks about her, and it's a good feeling.  One Erin wants to keep.

 

* * *

 

Their parents let them ride their bikes to school in fourth grade, and they have a special corner between their two neighborhoods where they meet every morning.  Once, toward the very end of the school year, two months after Erin's tenth birthday and three months since she last saw Mrs. Barnard's ghost, Jillian's running late.

That's not super unusual; sometimes Jillian removes her tires or bike chain to use in one of the inventions she's always making lately in her garage, and on those days she has to run and meet Erin at their corner, where she'll then hop on the pegs of Erin's bike's back tires and hold onto her waist the whole way to school.  Erin kind of likes those mornings best; it makes her feel like she's the powerful, protective one.  And Jillian's still so small it barely makes pedaling harder. 

But ten minutes pass, according to Erin's solar system watch, and Jillian's never been this late before, and Erin's never been marked tardy at school, so finally when she can't wait any longer she hops on her bike and pedals onward alone.

She's hoping Jillian's mom had to drop her off for some reason, but Jillian isn't in the classroom when Erin hurries in just before the bell, and she doesn't come in late all morning, either. 

Erin knows she's probably just home sick, or had a doctors appointment she forgot to mention, but it's never happened before, and it makes Erin anxious not to have her there.  Her hands are nervous and jumpy all day, and she's never noticed the kids still call her Ghost Girl this much, or the way they look at her like she's something sticky and gross.  Jillian makes her not notice. 

Lunch is the worst; there's no one to sit beside or talk to, and Erin's skin is starting to fill like it's pulled too tight even before Scott Laskey sits down in front of her and asks, "Hey, is it true about Jillian?" 

None of the kids ever call Jillian by her real name.  It makes Erin's lungs shrink.  Her voice comes out all jumbled and quiet, "What about her?"

"My dad said she and her mom got in a car crash.  Her mom's dead but they don't know how hurt Jillian got."

Erin sucks in a breath.  "You're lying."

"Whatever, no, I'm not.  We saw the police car outside their house."  Scott lives on Jillian's street, Erin remembers that now, that part's true, oh no oh no oh _no -_

Everything's starting to go fuzzy and bright at the edge of Erin's vision. She can't really breathe right, not without making a lot of noise that sounds like a baby crying, and the last thing she hears before a bunch of teachers converge on her is someone saying, "I think Ghost Girl's possessed."

 

* * *

 

She's in the nurse's office, crying and crying and crying, she can't stop it, even when the nurse makes her breathe into a paper bag because she was coughing so hard, the sobs are so loud she can't hear what the nurse is saying, and finally she just lets Erin curl up on the cot with her arms wrapped around her head.

Then suddenly her mom is there, gently untangling the tight ball of Erin and making her look. 

Her mom's eyes are red, like she's been crying, and a fear thrums through Erin's body worse than any the ghost ever put there, but then her mom says, "Jillian's fine, sweetie, she's just fine, I promise."  She keeps touching Erin's hair.  "She and her mom were in an accident last night, and Maggie - " Her mom's voice cracks a little.  "Maggie died, but Jillian's okay.  She's probably just very, very sad."

Erin swallows and swallows and when she can finally talk again her voice sounds like a stranger's.  "I want to see her." 

"Baby, we're gonna wanna give Jill and her daddy some time, okay?  How about you and I go pick out some pretty flowers to send, and then maybe tomorrow we can take over some food - "

" _No_ ," Erin yells, and that doesn't sound like her either, because she doesn't talk back to her mom.  "I need to see Jillian _now_ , she wants me to, okay?  I know she does." 

She doesn't have to go back to class; her mom puts her bike in the trunk of the car and drives them home.  Erin starts to protest again when they miss the turn for Jillian's house, but her mom shushes her and says, "I'm going to just call her house, okay, baby?  We gotta make sure it's okay."

But Erin never has to make sure it's okay, she shows up at Jillian's house all the time, so when her mom goes in the house, Erin grabs her bike and pedals furiously, so hard her legs are sore by the time she gets there. 

There are a lot of cars in the driveway, and Erin doesn't know the woman who answers the door.  It stalls her momentum, and makes her remember her manners.  "Um.  Is Jillian home?" 

The woman makes a sad face.  "She is, but it's not a good time, dear - "

"Erin?"  It's Ben, Jillian's dad, coming up from behind the stranger lady.   Erin likes Jillian's dad, he's funny and he can whistle better than anyone she knows, but right now she feels afraid of him.  His face is strange and sagging; no one looks or sounds like themselves today.  "Jillian's in her room, I think she wants to see you." 

At that, Erin rushes right past them and barrels through the house, which is full of adults she doesn't know, and walks into Jillian's room without knocking.

Jillian at least, looks the same as she always does, except there's a neat row of stitches on her cheek.  She sighs in relief when she sees Erin.  "Good, you came.  I wanted to call you this morning but Dad said you'd be in school."

Erin can't figure out what to say.  "Are you alright?"   

Sighing, Jillian nods like that was a stupid question.  "Eriiiiin.  Focus.  When your neighbor died, how long until the ghost showed up again?"

"Uhh...it was the first night, after my parents told me."

"Good."  Jillian claps her hands together.  "So my mom will probably come see me tonight.  Everyone thinks it's weird I haven't cried or something, I heard my aunts talking about it, but they don't know things that we know, right?  They think they'll never see her again."  Jillian frowns suddenly, tilting her head and squinting at Erin.  "You look like _you_ ' _ve_ been crying."

"Yeah, um, I was, at school."

"Why?"

"Scott said you got hurt."

"Barely.  See?  Nine stitches.  All the car windows broke, it was crazy."  Jillian's talking faster than usual, pacing in tight little loops of the room.  "Listen.  I know Mrs. Barnard's ghost never talked to you but that doesn't mean they can't talk probably, right?"

"I don't know.  I guess not.  But Jillian...."  Erin's voice trails off, because it's just now hitting her, now that she knows Jillian is safe and unharmed, that Jillian's mom is _dead_.  

And she doesn't know how to explain that ghosts won't make that better.  Erin's only ever seen one, but she doesn't think ghosts are a good thing.

Jillian doesn't let her finish the sentence anyway, talking over her in a rush, "I know you don't see her anymore, after a whole year, but Mrs. Barnard didn't even like you, so I think my mom would keep coming back.  I'm going to ask if she can stay around during the day, too, even if she just has to stay in my room."

"Jill?"  Erin finally manages to get out, her voice tiny. 

The shortening of her name seems to get through to her, and Jillian's eyes finally stop moving and land on Erin.  "What?"

"I was really worried about you."  Her voice is shaking a little.  "Were you scared?"

Jillian's face shifts, and suddenly she looks small and young and unsure, and it makes Erin sorry she asked.  Then, finally, Jillian nods.  "Yeah.  It was really really scary." 

So Erin does what she always wished someone would have done for her, every night she woke up scared, long after her parents stopped coming when she called.  She steps forward and awkwardly wraps small arms around her best friend and holds tight.

The door to the bedroom cracks open for a moment, and the girls move away from each other to look up at Erin's mom peeking in.  "Jillian, sweetheart, I'm so so sorry to hear about your mom."  Jillian's eyes dull, like she's heard that too many times already, and she doesn't even answer.  Erin's mom shifts her attention to her daughter.  "Erin, come on.  Jillian needs time with her family."

 

* * *

 

Jillian isn't in school for the rest of the week, and Erin hates it; she doesn't see her again until the funeral. 

It's the first time she's ever seen Jillian in a dress, and it almost makes Erin want to laugh for a sudden, absurd moment, until Jillian spots her and breaks away from the cluster of family members to run up to Erin.  "She hasn't come yet," she confides.  "But I have a theory."

"What is it?"

"I think maybe it's your _bedroom_.  I got some books out of the library back when we were first trying to see the ghost, and it says there are _places_ with heightened paranormal activity."  She pronounces the final phrase carefully, like it's something she's memorized.  "So I want to spend the night at your house tonight."

"Will your par -  your dad let you?"

"Yeah, he says it'd be good for me.  I haven't told him about the ghost yet...want it to be a surprise, once I can talk to her and figure out how she can stay around."

There is a bad, bad feeling in the pit of Erin's stomach that this isn't going to work, that Maggie Holtzmann is not the same as Mrs. Barnard, but she doesn't say anything because she really really wants Jillian to be right.   

"I'll ask my parents," she says.  "But I'm sure they'll say yes."

 

* * *

 

It's a weird sleepover.  Erin's parents are even weird, being so nice to Jillian it almost seems fake.  They let them bake cupcakes and take them to Erin's room to eat, even though she's not usually allowed food in there. 

Jillian doesn't want to do much; it's like they're just waiting for it to be nighttime.  Her dad even helps them move the television from the den into Erin's room, and they sit on Erin's bed and watch movies on VHS until it's late enough to put on pajamas and get in bed.

"Do you think sleeping is _part_ of it?"  Jillian asks in a hushed voice.

"I don't know, I never was able to stay awake," Erin reminds her.  "But it always woke me up, so I don't think you'll sleep through it." 

"I might be too excited to sleep." 

It takes Erin a long time to fall asleep, too, but she's more anxious than excited.  She's used to being scared of waking up to ghosts - tonight, though, she's afraid there _won't_ be one.

 

* * *

 

"No, no, no, _no_...." 

Erin's eyes fly open, and she quickly becomes aware of morning sunlight streaming through her blinds, and Jillian sitting up in bed beside her, shaking her head in mounting distress. 

"Jill?"

"Nothing happened, I didn't wake up, she didn't.... _my mom didn't come_."  Jillian launches herself off Erin's bed and starts pacing around the room.  "I don't get it, it's been _a week_ , your dumb stupid neighbor came after _one night_ and she didn't even _like_ you..." 

Erin feels terrible.  She should have told Jillian what she was really thinking last night, not let her get her hopes up.  "I...I think that's sort of the point, Jillian.  I don't think being a ghost is a good thing, I think maybe it's only when they're mad - "

" _SHUT UP_!"  Jillian stops pacing to look at Erin, and there are tears rolling down her cheeks.  Erin's body jolts unpleasantly; she's never seen Jillian cry, and Jillian's never been mean to her before.  She's not sure which is worse.  "I don't think you know anything, you're just making it up!  You probably made up everything, just like everyone always says." 

The words hit Erin like a punch, knocking the wind out of her and filling her eyes instantly with tears.  "I...no, I didn't, Jillian you _know_ I didn't - "

"I know if ghosts were real, my mom would have come to see me.  That means you're just a _liar_."  Jillian's face crumples slowly, a forceful wail tearing out of her as she starts sobbing, and Erin hates her and wants to hug her at the same time.  "I'm going home," she chokes out, the words barely decipherable, and then she's slamming Erin's bedroom door with a thud that Erin feels deep in her stomach. 

Erin sits there, still on her bed, and she waits for Jillian to come back in and take it back, to say she believes Erin just like she always has, the way Erin _needs_ her to believe. 

But she doesn't come back.  And after a moment, Erin gets up and goes to her window just in time to see Jillian, still in her pajamas, riding away on her bike, getting smaller and smaller.

Quietly, making sure not to make any noise, Erin starts to cry; it feels like she's just lost something important, and she won't be able to get it back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So every chapter (I'm thinking about maybe 4-5 chapters total?) won't be nearly this long, but I wanted to get the childhood section mainly out of the way, and next chapter (after a little resolution to the kiddos current state, obviously) will move onto those hormone charged teenage years. 
> 
> Also, I stole a few details from posts I'd seen about facts from the various GB books (the story with Erin's dog, her neighbors name, the fact that she draws the ghost) but I haven't read the full things myself. Also, this is an unbetaed thing I wrote in pieces while working, so excuse the typos I have yet to catch...I always end up editing a dozen or so times.


	2. track two: I Wanna Dance With Somebody

_Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_  
_I wanna feel the heat with somebody_  
_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_  
_With somebody who loves me_

* * *

 

 

Erin spends the whole Sunday miserable, and she's not sure what to do about it.  She keeps thinking about going to school tomorrow, and how it will feel if Jillian's there and still mad at her.

They've never been angry at each other before.  Not once.  Erin isn't even sure how to do it.

She paces restlessly around the house all morning, unable to sit still without worrying and worrying herself into circles, and every time Erin passes the window she can't help but look outside, past the driveway to the part of the road where Jillian always appears on her bicycle. 

But she doesn't come back.

"Baby?"  Erin's mom finds her at the window around lunchtime and hugs her from behind; she's been doing that a lot the past week, ever since Maggie Holtzmann died.  "Jillian went home awful early this morning.  She okay?"

Just like that, Erin's throat gets all tight; she's felt like she was choking on something all morning, and she'd wanted to run to her parents and tell them what happened the second Jillian slammed out of the house, but they won't understand.  They may even get mad at her for getting Jillian's hopes up over something they think it just a lie.

But Erin's mom loosens her arms so she can turn her daughter around and look at her, and she must read the _about to cry_ in Erin's face, because her eyes gentle and she asks, "Erin?  What happened?" 

"We had a fight," Erin confesses, her lips trembling, hoping her mom won't make her explain what it was about.  "Jill got mad at me and...she really hurt my feelings."  The last part spills out without Erin meaning to admit it. 

"Oh, sweetheart..."  Erin's mom exhales a huge breath, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her to sit on the couch.  "Honey.  Listen.  Jillian's just gone through something...absolutely horrible."  Her mom's voice catches, eyes getting too bright, and Erin flinches and looks away.  One thing she learned at the funeral, she doesn't like seeing grown ups cry.  Especially parents.  "No child should have to deal with something like that.  And Jillian's probably feeling a lot of big and confusing feelings about it... _too_ many feelings.  And that means sometimes those feelings are going to come out in places they shouldn't.  Like she might get really mad or upset about something small, but it really just means she's sad about her mom." 

Erin's quiet for a moment, struggling to process that.  She didn't know feelings were like that, that there could be such a thing as _too much._

When Erin doesn't ask any questions, her mom smooths her hair back and gives her a sad smile.  "So whatever it is Jillian said, I'm sure she didn't mean it.  But this is a time where it's important that you forgive her, okay?  Because she's really going to need her best friend." 

Erin knots her fingers together in her lap, eyes downcast.  "She's mad at me, too, though." 

"She won't be for long.  Trust me." 

Her mom sounds so _sure_ , but Erin knows parents aren't always right.  The whole reason she and Jillian became friends in the first place was because Jillian was the only one who believed Erin wasn't lying or crazy about ghosts. 

Now that's gone, and Jillian agrees with every other kid at school who stays far away from Erin. 

 

* * *

 

Erin wakes up in the middle of the night to a sharp rapping sound, and fear whips through her like a cold wind.  It's been almost a year since she saw Mrs. Barnard, but for a disoriented second it makes perfect sense that the ghost would come back as soon as Jillian stopped being her friend.  Some childish, irrational part of Erin had always believed that's what chased it away in the first place.

But then Erin wakes up enough to follow the source of the noise to her window, and she can just make out her best friend's small, pale face pressed up against it.

Erin jumps out of bed and hurries across the room, and within a few seconds Jillian is tumbling through the window and into Erin's room, acting like this is a perfectly natural time and place to show up. 

"Sorry I woke you up,"  Jillian says casually, in lieu of a greeting.  

Erin stands rooted in spot as Jillian kicks off her shoes and leaps into Erin's bed without her, dramatically burrowing under all the covers, comforter included. 

"You coming?"

Erin can't think of anything to do other than close the window and return to her bed. 

"Are you okay?"  she asks tentatively when she's slid under the covers and taken one of her pillows back from Jillian.

"Mmm-hmmm.  I just couldn't sleep at home." 

Erin feels Jillian shuffling closer to her, inelegantly folding herself against Erin.  "It's cold outside," she mumbles in explanation, even though it's practically summer and the air's been thick and muggy for weeks. 

There's not a single trace of anger in her voice tonight, and Erin's at least half convinced she's just dreaming as she drifts back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

But Jillian's still there the next morning, and they both wake up before Erin's alarm goes off when Erin's mom opens the door to her bedroom and cries out, "Thank God..."  Then, into the phone, "Ben, she's here...no, no worries at all, I'm just glad - ...of course.  Don't worry about a thing, we'll get her off to school on time..." 

Jillian scrunches her face up, coming to slightly behind Erin.  "I think my mom was on the phone with your dad," she tells her.  "He didn't know you were coming here?"

" _Nah_ , he'd never let me ride my bike that late."

Jillian stays and eats breakfast with Erin, and she puts on Erin's clothes, a pink T-shirt and a pair of jeans she has to roll up at the ankles.  It's definitely the most normal outfit she's ever worn to school.

The whole morning at her house and on their bike ride to school, Erin keeps checking Jillian for signs of annoyance, but she seems like her normal self again, like she doesn't even remember the fight happened.   

After the last week of missing Jillian at school, and spending all of yesterday terrified they were no long friends, it's such a relief to slip back into their comfortable, safe routine together that Erin's afraid to bring any of the bad stuff up.

 

* * *

 

In the summer between fourth and fifth grade, Jillian's at Erin's house constantly.  Sometimes it's a planned sleepover, and she ends up staying for days, but sometimes she ends up at Erin's window in the middle of the night again.  Erin starts leaving the window unlocked, and Jillian's dad stops calling to make sure his daughter's there.

It's kind of awesome, having Jillian around so much; Erin's parents even invite her along to their yearly beach trip, and they have a blast flying kites or building castles on the beach, and spending hours at the arcade on the boardwalk.  They come back from vacation with matching suntans and matching sand dollar necklaces they won with Skee ball tickets.  

But there's a strangeness to that summer, too, and it takes Erin some getting used to: they never talk about ghosts.

Before Jillian's mom died, even when Mrs. Barnard's ghost had stopped haunting Erin and her bedroom, the two friends still talked about ghosts all the time.  Jillian was fond of theorizing about machines to trap ghosts, and Erin eagerly chimed in, insisting that someday she was going to show everyone that ghosts were real.

But just as Jillian never brought up their fight again, the topic of ghosts had been buried along with it.

Erin still thinks about it a lot, mostly at night when she can't sleep - it still takes her awhile to calm down enough to sleep when Jillian's not there, even though she hasn't seen a ghost in so long. 

She isn't sure anymore, whether Jillian still thinks she was lying about the ghost. Erin's pretty sure she'll never be brave enough to ask, but her stomach hurts every time she remembers that morning, the sharpness of Jillian's voice calling her a liar. 

And on the worst nights, Erin even doubts herself.  She knows she wasn't lying, but that doesn't mean she was right.  The kids at school either think she made the whole thing up, or that she's crazy. 

And the thing is, Erin can't be sure about the last one.  Without the steadiness of Jillian's belief holding it together, Erin's story starts to feel fragile.  

She's almost eleven years old now, and that means Erin's old enough to understand how it sounds.

It sounds _crazy_. 

Erin secretly reads all about hallucinations and delusions in her dad's set of World Book encyclopedias, and it stresses her out because there's no way to prove that's not what happened.  Sometimes she gets so tangled up in thinking about it - thoughts and worries that go in circles and criss cross in all directions but never end up at an answer - that panic takes over and it gets hard to breathe. 

Her parents catch her like that a few times, and make her go see Dr. Potts more often.  She asks Erin a lot of questions about Jillian and her mom, and whether Erin is afraid of other people dying. 

She'd never really thought about it _before_ , but being asked so much if it worries her kind of makes it worry her, and Erin thinks back to what her mom said about Jillian, feeling too much after her mother died.  Erin thinks maybe that's happening to her, now, that she's got too many worries and not enough room in her brain.  She supposes that's what the pill she has to take every day now is for: space management. 

So it's great that Jillian is with her so much; no one's better than her best friend at keeping Erin untangled and out of her own head.  But she tries not to let Jillian see her take her pill at breakfast, and hopes she won't notice that Erin's going to therapy as much as she did when Mrs. Barnard still came every night. 

Erin feels funny keeping secrets from her, but she holds tight to them that whole summer, and then all of fifth grade.  They're in the same class again, much to Erin's relief, and at least once a week Jillian still shows up at her window at night.  They've never been allowed school night sleepovers before, but Erin's parents don't seem to mind anymore. 

They do ask Jillian a lot of questions, mostly about her dad and whether he's been grocery shopping or even left the house lately.  Jillian never seems bothered by the questions, but her answers hand Erin more things to worry about.

 

* * *

 

The start of middle school means changing classes, and Erin's nervous not to be with Jillian all day.  They only have two classes together, but at least are allowed to sit together at lunch.  Jillian tells all the middle school teachers to call her by her last name; soon Erin's the only one in the school with the privilege of _Jillian_. 

The middle school's too far to ride their bikes to, and anyway Erin thinks that's maybe considered babyish in sixth grade, like bringing a lunch box to school or having class parties for holidays.  So they ride the bus, and most mornings they stretch out the headphones to Jillian's Walkman trying to listen at the same time. 

Jillian is ten years old when the school year starts, and she seems smaller than ever in the same building as eighth graders, the tall thirteen and fourteen year old girls who have already sailed effortlessly through puberty.  Even Erin feels tiny and problematically young every time she enters the school. 

It makes Erin quieter, more careful, but other than her preferred public name, Jillian doesn't change.  She stays wonderfully, singularly weird, immune to the self-consciousness and detachment that has settled over their classmates as adolescence cloaks them all. 

One Saturday, Erin and Jillian end up wandering a  Dollar Tree next door to the local multiplex; they'd told her mom to drop them off an hour before the movie actually starts.  Jillian has her dad's camera, and they spend an hour in the toy aisle, goofing off with fuzzy hats and feather boas and sunglasses so big they don't even fit on their face.  Jillian keeps doing weird accents and Erin can't stop giggling and taking her photo, so they have a stack of Polaroids when they eventually walk over to the movie theater - but only after buying two fuzzy hats, neon green for Erin and purple for Jillian.

But Jillian actually shows up at school one day in the hat, returning it faithfully to her head between classes after every teacher makes her take it off.  People snicker in the hallways and call her a Muppet, but Jillian just grins and elbows Erin in the side.  "You gotta wear yours one day, too."  Erin shrugs and says maybe, but she'd never actually do it. 

It's not that Erin's holding out hope that she's suddenly going to understand how to become Cool, or even make any more friends, and anyway, it's not like popularity is something she really wants; most days, Jillian's enough.  But she still can't shed the instinctive need to protect herself from ridicule and embarrassment, even the kind that happens behind her back.

 

* * *

 

Middle school also means dances, the first one being the Fall Fling in early October.  Erin assumes there's no reason for them to go, but Jillian practically explodes with excitement at the word _dance_ , in any context.

"I don't get it," Erin grumbles when Jillian gleefully thrusts a flier into her hand after fifth period.  "We can put on music and dance anytime we want, why would we come back to school to do it?"

"You know it's different at an actual _DAHHH-NCE_ ,"  Jillian drawls, practically skipping alongside Erin.  "With a dance floor and probably lights and someone else picking the songs."

"Isn't it _less_ fun to dance to music you didn't choose?"

"Nah, I like the element of _SURPRISE!!"_ On the last word, Jillian leaps and pivots so she's standing directly in front of Erin, waving her hands in her face.  Erin just blinks at her, determinedly nonplussed. 

"Wow, you really got me," she deadpans, and Jillian laughs.  Erin shoves her shoulder into her friends as they resume walking side by side, continuing to state her case.  "I still don't understand what's so different.  Do you want to dance with boys or something?"

Jillian makes a grossed out face and wiggles her limbs in an over the top shudder.  "Ew, _no_.  Course not."  It reminds Erin that Jillian's younger than anyone else in this school, and that she obviously hasn't gotten to the age where she notices boys yet.

 _Erin_ , on the other hand, definitely notices them, to the point of distraction sometimes.  Especially when there are older kids around: there are actually boys that are taller than the girls now, and a few of the eighth graders even have pricklings of facial hair.  Erin worries maybe all the noticing means she's becoming boy crazy, but the truth is she notices everyone, including the eighth grade girls who are obviously far beyond training bras, their makeup and wrists jangling with jewelry making them look so grown up and pretty. 

Jillian keeps talking, "I just wanna hang out with _you_.  But at the dance."

Erin sighs, but eventually she nods her head.  "Fine, we can go."  Jillian whoops with delight, and Erin thinks her parents will be almost as excited as her; going to a dance is such a nice, normal almost-teenager thing to do.  

And they really want Erin to be a nice, normal almost-teenager.

 

* * *

   

Her parents _both_ come in the car to take her to the dance, even though Erin keeps insisting they don't have to.  They go to Jillian's house to pick her up, and she must be watching at the window because she comes trotting right out without Erin's dad even having to honk the horn.  Her mom unbuckles her seat belt and twists around in the seat.  "C'mon, sweetie, I wanna take some photos of you girls."

Erin groans quietly.  "Mom, _please_ , don't act like this is some big deal..." 

" _Erin_."  She raises both eyebrows.  "Would you rather me do it at the school?  No?  Didn't think so."

Rolling her eyes, Erin shoulders her way out of the backseat of the car. 

Jillian's standing on the sidewalk, and her eyes light up when she sees Erin.  "Hey!  You look pretty." 

Flushing a little, Erin looks down at her outfit: a black dress with a pattern of small white flowers, the kind of silky material she likes to worry between her fingers.  "Thanks."  She lifts her eyes again, lips quirking into a smile as she looks at her friend.  "So do you," Erin tells her, meaning it because Jillian always looks pretty, but her dance outfit is rather odd.  She's even wearing a tie, one of her dad's probably, and so loose around her neck she probably just stuck her head through.  It's the same shade of red as her high top Converse. 

"You girls look _adorable_ ," Erin's mom gushes. 

" _Mom_."

"Sorry, sorry...you look very _sophisticated_."  But she says it like a joke, so Erin just sighs until she notices Jillian beaming at the compliment.  "Jillian, honey, does your dad not want to come out and get some pictures?"

"Don't think so," Jillian sing-songs, and Erin's parents exchange a disapproving look.  Erin wishes they wouldn't do that right in front of Jillian.  _God_.

Her mom recovers quickly though, lifting her own camera.  "Okay, get together and _smile_." 

It goes on for forever, even though there's only so many poses Erin and Jillian can do, and finally Erin shoots a pleading look at her dad and he announces, "We should get going.  Deb, I think you got a whole scrapbook of photos already."

Her mom's ridiculous behavior actually makes Erin glad when they finally get dropped off at the dance, which is just the gym where they have PE every day, the basketball hoops raised out of the way and sparkling lights moving over the makeshift dance floor.

The music is already loud and pounding when they walk in, but hardly anybody is actually dancing yet.  A bunch of kids are spread out in groups in the bleachers, while others stand in circles around the dance floor, barely nodding along to the beat; some circles are just made up of couples holding hands. 

Erin moves instinctively closer to Jillian at the site of the crowd.  "Let's just get some punch and go sit somewhere," Erin says, loud and close to her friend's ear.  "We can play Silent Movie," she adds, referring to a game Jillian invented but Erin named, where they watch other people from a distance while Jillian, and sometimes Erin, though she's not as good at it, makes up what they might be saying.

Jillian spins in a full circle before stopping and looking at Erin incredulously.  "It's a _dance_." 

"But no one's dancing yet."

" _So?_ "

It figures.  Jillian can't even tap her foot to music without it turning into a full fledged performance.  She's also incapable of dancing to a song she knows without dramatically lip syncing along - and sometimes just singing.  It's like Jillian absorbs music, right into her muscles and bones, and most of the time Erin loves it.  In her bedroom or living room, she's right there with her best friend, trying like hell to follow along, but she feels stiff and exposed just being here...much less if she was _dancing_. 

The song changes to Whitney Houston, _I Wanna Dance with Somebody_ , and from the first note Erin knows she's in trouble; this is one of Jillian's favorites.  Sure enough, delight floods her face, and she seizes Erin's hand and drags her to a corner of the basketball court, where Jillian promptly launches herself headfirst into the song.

Jillian dances wild and effortless, every part of her body participating, her eyes trained intently on Erin as she mouths the words, _so_ dramatic, and Erin feels her chest shaking with the most familiar kind of laughter.  She can't bring herself to do more than lightly shift her shoulders back and forth, but she likes being the sole target of Jillian's performance; she can't be embarrassed by it.  She can't feel anything but lucky.

Erin's laughter is enough to fuel Jillian for a long run of songs, but gradually she becomes more and more insistent on trying to get Erin to join in.  There are more students dancing by now, and Erin makes her best effort, bobbing up and down in time to the songs, but it's nothing like the unabashed energy she lets out when it's just the two of them at home, and she can tell Jillian's disappointed. 

 _Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now_ comes out at some point, a duet they have perfected in the safe confines of Erin's bedroom.  Light floods Jillian's face, and she practically pirouettes closer to Erin to start lip sycnhing her part of the song.

_Looking in your eyes, I see a paradise, this world that I found is too good to be true.  Standing here beside you, want so much to give you this love in my heart that I'm feeling for you._

Instinct rises in Erin's throat, and she barely moves her lips to continue, _Let em say we're crazy, I don't care about that..._

But then her gaze lands on the cluster of girls behind Jillian, girls from her homeroom, giggling and nudging each other and unmistakably staring.  Erin lowers her eyes, keeping herself in check.

Jillian visibly deflates, and she straightens up, going still.  "It's not fun by myself."

"Sorry," Erin murmurs, guilty.

The younger girl heaves a dramatic sigh, and Erin's brain runs itself in anxious circles: Jillian's probably thinking that she deserves better than this, to get stuck with some wimpy best friend who's only fun to be around when no one else is watching. 

 

* * *

 

They get punch and cookies and go sit on the bleachers for awhile; it feels safer up there, and Erin nearly goes weak with relief every time she coaxes a laugh from Jillian by drumming with her palms on the top of her best friend's head, or lying prostrate on the bleachers and air guitaring. 

Any traces of bad feelings are gone between them by the time the lights go on in the gym and teachers start ushering everyone outside.  It's a Friday night, and Jillian's sleeping over at Erin's. 

"Did you two have fun?" Erin's mom chirps from the front seat when the climb into the backseat of her car.

Erin looks at Jillian, like she can't give an answer without confirming it with her.  Jillian cracks a grin and nods, and at the same time, they answer, "Yes."

Still, when they get home and start getting ready for bed in unusual silence, Erin still feels like she should say something.  It takes her awhile to gather the courage.  "Hey, Jill?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm?"  Jillian's got a toothbrush sticking out her mouth, and she drags the syllable out for way too long.  Erin rolls her eyes in response, nerves deserting her.  

"I'm sorry I wasn't very fun tonight."

"You'uh al-ays un," Jillian mumbles around a mouth full of phone.

"Huh?"

She holds up a finger and trots to Erin's bathroom to spit.  A few seconds later she returns and repeats, clearer this time, "You're always fun."  Erin gives her a _come on_ sort of look.  Jillian half grins.  "Okay, you were fun _eventually_.  But it's alright.  I know you didn't want to go in the first place.  So thanks for coming with me."

Erin frowns, not sure how she ended up getting _thanked_ here.  She still feels like she owes an explanation.  But she doesn't know how to say it in a way that isn't just _I'm scared and I'm weak and I don't know how to stop it_. 

So instead, she takes a breath and moves over to her dad's old boom box, the one that sits on the middle tier of her bookshelf.  There are a few cassettes with homemade labels stacked around it, and Erin finds one she recognizes and sticks it in.

 _Rhythm of the Night_ bursts to life and so does Jillian's smile; this is one of her all time favorites. 

"I can be fun now," Erin promises, moving her whole body in time with the drums.  The vocals come in and she instinctively starts mouthing along, but Jillian doesn't and it stops Erin instantly.  Jillian isn't even _moving_ ; it's weird to see her so still when this song is playing.  Erin's stomach clenches; maybe she _is_ mad.  "You're not gonna dance?" 

Jillian smirks.  "I carried this team alone earlier.  'S your turn." 

Erin feels the heat spreading across her face, but she nods obediently and resumes dancing.  It feels difficult and awkward without Jillian's energy to feed off of, but the song is familiar and so is Jillian's bright eyed grin, and soon Erin relaxes as she spins and bobs her way through the first verse and chorus. 

Not even two minutes in, she can see Jillian practically vibrating with the need to join in, so Erin firmly grips her hand and tugs her forward, the simple motion enough to unleash Jillian's best dance moves.

Soon Erin has to turn up the music so they can still hear over their mingling laughter.  It's late but she isn't tired at all, and she loves this so much, dancing in their bare feet and pajamas, goofing off and trying to one up each other.  They dance through the whole first side of the tape, and Jillian doesn't even stop moving in the silence that ensues when Erin has to turn the cassette over. 

They're sweaty and breathless by the time Erin's dad finally sticks his head in the bedroom door and tells them it's maybe time for bed.  So the music and the lights go off and they slide under the covers, giggly and hyper but trying to be quiet like it's some kind of game, and every minute or so, right when Erin feels like she's finally calmed down enough to maybe sleep, Jillian will pierce the silence singing some random line of a song, and they lose it all over again.

It's nearly midnight when Erin finally drifts off, and the last thing she thinks is that the other girls at school don't have best friendships like this.  They can't possibly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up cutting this chapter off a little sooner than I'd planned: going for slightly shorter chapters for the purposes of more frequent update, but don't worry, more middle school Drama (and soon, the high school era, which will end up being the bigger focus of the story) is coming.
> 
> Hope the conflict we left dangling last chapter doesn't feel like it was resolved too quickly. I mean, it _was_ , that's sort of the point, but it's definitely left behind some issues to quietly fester over the years and eventually roar right back to life.


	3. track three: You're My Best Friend

_Ooh you make me live_  
_Whenever this world is cruel to me_  
_I got you to help me forgive_  
_Ooh you make me live now honey_  
_Ooh you make me live_

 _You're the first one_  
_When things turn out bad_  
_You know I'll never be lonely_

 

* * *

 

  _E,_

_Write me a note before next period.  I am extremely bored._

_\- Jillian Holtzmann_

 

* * *

 

_Jill,_

_If you're bored why didn't you just write ME a longer note??  Anyway, I'm TRYING to pay attention.  I like this class._

_Erin_

_PS why do you sign your whole name like I don't know who you are?_

 

* * *

 

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_I opted to request correspondence from you rather than compose one myself  because I feel as though you could provide superior entertainment.  However, I should have assumed you would be too busy enjoying our academic imprisonment because, to reiterate a conclusion I have drawn many times: you are a nerd._

_\- Jillian Holtzmann, future phd_

_PS Come thrifting with me after school please and thanks_

_PPS  Also there should be ice cream_

 

* * *

 

_Future Dr. Holtzmann,_

_You know your phd is gonna require a lot more classroom time.  I'm not writing you notes through all of it._

 

* * *

 

_Bet you will if I ask._

_Besides it'll also have the fun stuff...in an actual lab._

 

* * *

 

_If you don't blow it up._

 

* * *

 

_The garage didn't BLOW UP, drama queen.  It was a small fire.  And my dad never mows the grass anymore so he's not gonna notice if the lawnmower seat's a little tiny minuscule bit scorched._

 

* * *

 

They're over two months into eighth grade, a year when Jillian and Erin only have two real classes together: Algebra II and Civics, plus PE three days a week.

Erin at thirteen likes school, for the most part; it's something she knows she's good at, and there are reassuring A's on her progress reports every three weeks to prove it.  Erin gets nervous every time she's about to get one, irrational worry flaring in her chest, as though she's somehow forgotten about a failed assignment that could blow bullet holes in her perfect academic record, but it hasn't happened so far.  Each progress report and report card has been perfect, and her parents put them on the fridge and tell her they're proud. 

All of which explains why Jillian has taken to affectionately calling Erin a nerd.  It does no good to argue that _she's_ the one who skipped a grade - "you were a _baby_ nerd," Erin had tried once (just once) - because the truth is that Jillian at twelve doesn't really care much about her grades.  She's easily bored in class, a tiny ball of kinetic energy trapped in a metal desk with nothing to but listen or read.  She tells Erin she'd rather be _doing_ something, and save for a few stray 'lab days' in Earth Science, there aren't many opportunities.

Erin wishes they had science together; if nothing else, it would be the easiest class to pass notes in (not that she _wants_ to do that, but Jillian does it no matter how many times Erin tries to refuse).  Instead of individual desks, they sit two by two at black, graffiti scrawled tables. 

Instead of Jillian, Erin's stuck with Kyle Hammond, one of the kids from their elementary school who helped spread the Ghost Girl nickname.  He's actually not much of a jerk anymore - sometimes Erin lets him check his answers on particularly difficult homework questions, so he kinda has to be nice - but she still gets this wave of uneasiness at the beginning of every class.

So it takes her by complete surprise when, one day late in October, Kyle slides a note across their lab table for Erin.  It's not like Jillian's notes, folded about a dozen times and snugly tucked together, just a flat sheet of wide ruled notebook paper with a single sentence scrawled on it in jagged boy handwriting.

_Have you gone to Fall Fest yet this year?_

Fall Fest is a yearly local event, a sort of small scale county fair, with carnival games, pumpkin growing contests, a handful of rides, and a lot of excellent junk food.  Erin and Jillian go every year.

However, there's also a pretty strong Halloween element to Fall Fest - a few haunted house type rides, and one specific night where all the workers where costumes - so Erin tenses up immediately, wary of a ghost related punchline as she cautiously writes back: _Not yet_.

But then the paper slides back to her, and the newest sentence makes Erin actually literally drop her pencil. 

_Would you want to maybe go together?  This Friday night?  Like a date?_

Heat floods Erin's cheeks like a brush fire, and she ducks her head slightly, letting her hair fall in a curtain between her and Kyle so he can't see how shocked she is.

The word _date_ pulses in the center of her gaze, the word a living, breathing thing with immediate power. 

Other kids at school have been "going together" since sixth grade, holding hands on the car lot and occasionally even sneaking kisses at their lockers, but Erin's never once thought those couple activities might one day be available to her.

The Ghost Girl story has persisted, even though Erin herself hasn't brought up or even defended the existence of ghosts in the four years since Jillian's mom died.  It doesn't matter; she can't give back the label they'd forced upon her as a kid, and even students who came from other elementary schools know her reputation by now.  Dating Erin - even just being friends with her - would be an embarrassment.  She's like a much, much worse version of the fuzzy hat or weird yellow glasses Jillian wears to school sometimes.

Except...

If anyone could withstand the social suicide of going with Erin Gilbert, it would be Kyle.  His cool is probably strong enough to withstand even that kind of blow.

Kyle's a starting point guard on the basketball team.  His house has a pool.  And supposedly (though Erin has no firsthand knowledge of this), his oldest brother buys him beer to bring to parties. 

And he's cute.

Like, really really cute.

There's this fluttery feeling in Erin's chest and her fingers are shaking a little when she retrieves her pencil and writes back: _Sure, that sounds fun._

 

* * *

 

"So guess what happened today in Earth Science?" 

"You learned about photosynthesis for the trillionteenth time?"

Erin shifts her weight awkwardly, watching Jillian air guitar on a rusty pipe that looks like it was part of some kind of bathroom plumbing, making little high pitched riff noises under her breath. 

It's after school, and they're Thrifting, the name Jillian gave for afternoons where they go first to a series of thrift stores (two in church basements, one at its own shopfront on Main Street) and then to the junk yard (where Erin thinks they technically wouldn't be allowed to go if they ever bothered to ask permission). 

Erin's holding two bags, one stuffed with clothing items Jill had purchased, and one with her own find of the day: a used cassette tape for Queen's _Night at the Opera_.  Jillian's been obsessed with _Bohemian Rhapsody_ lately.  

She's not sure why she's just now telling Jillian about Kyle.  Erin getting asked on a date is, like, breaking news, and she's had two class changes, a bus ride, a bike ride, and three thrift stores to tell Jillian, but Erin feels weird about it for some reason.

"No, I...Kyle Hammond invited me to Fall Fest."

" _Ha_!"  Jillian lets out a sharp bark of laughter.  "That's embarrassing for him.  How'd he take the RE-JEC-TIIIOOOOOOOON?"  She delivers the last line is a heavy metal voice, the pipe going from guitar to microphone. 

Erin's momentum falters, her stomach folding unpleasantly.  "Um, I..."  Her voice shrinks down.  "IsaidI'dgowithhim."

Jillian stills, swinging an inscrutable stare Erin's way.  "As like a joke?"

"No...as like a date." Erin can't help the swell of pride in the final word.  It makes for a weird mixture with the shame suddenly pooling in her gut.

Jillian just stares at her.  "You don't like Kyle Hammond. Even just as a human person."

"I know, but -"

"He's one of the kids who called you Ghost Girl."

Erin sits down hard at the edge of a dirty old tire, hugging her knees like she's trying to make herself as small as possible.  Like that might make Jillian go easy on her.  "Just... _everyone_ has called me that, Jill." 

"Not me."

She bites her lip.  "I know."  The flash of an urge hits her, to bring up The Thing they never talk about: fourth grade, Jillian calling her a liar, ghost talk banished forever.  She doesn't.  Instead, Erin swallows and says, "But I can't only talk to you for the rest of my life."  Jillian frowns, looking like she might be about to refute that, so Erin hastily adds, "I mean, I can _mostly_ talk to only you.  I like that.  But I can't go on a _date_ with you."

Jillian's frown tightens, and she throws the pipe to the ground before turning back to a pile of rusty metal somethings.  She's quiet for too long, the kind of quiet that feels like choking, and then, too loud, says, "But you _were_ supposed to go to Fall Fest with me." 

"We're going Saturday.  He wants to go Friday."  Jillian's back is still to her, and Erin's voice catches with worry as she prods, "So that's okay, right?"

"Yep yep yep yep yep yep yep," Jillian mutters in a monotonous rhythm.  She finally turns around, picks her pipe back up, apparently abandoning her need to find anything else.  "Let's go."

They don't really talk on the bike ride home.  Erin keeps the thrift store bags hanging off her handlebars, and Jillian's got the pipe sticking out of her backpack.  When they get to the corner where they used to meet before school, Jillian turns to the right, heading to her own house.

Erin bikes in a quick semi circle, reversing course.  "You're going?"  That's not what normally happens.  It's way too early in the day for Jillian to want to go home.  Unless she wants to work in her garage, but on those days she always tells Erin to come with her...

"Yeah I have homework," Jillian calls over her shoulder.

It would be so easy to bust her, because Erin knows for a _fact_ that Jillian barely spends any time on her homework - most of the time she just does it when she's bored in other classes - but she doesn't say anything.  She just squeezes her handbrakes and drags one foot on the pavement until her bike slows to a stop; her eyes stay on Jillian as she disappears down the street, not once looking back. 

Erin's eyes start to sting.  She _hates_ this, hates knowing that Jillian thinks less of her, and it makes Erin feel stupid and petty for how much she _wants_ this, a date with a boy she mostly doesn't know or like. 

Jillian doesn't need things like that.  So Erin doesn't know how to make her understand why Kyle asking her out felt so damn good.  And more than that, it felt like reassurance.  Relief.

Someone actually _wants_ her.

But it still doesn't feel good enough to stop her from crying the rest of the way  to her house without her best friend following.

 

* * *

 

 

Only when she's sequestered herself in her room and slammed the door for good measure does Erin notice she still has both thrift store bags, including the one with Jillian's clothes.  For a second, Erin brightens, thinking it's an excuse to go over to Jillian's house, end the day on a better note with her...but there's no reason to think she'd be any different, and Erin doesn't have it in her to face the distance on Jillian's face again.

She puts on the new Queen cassette and flops mopily on her bed.  She's got homework she should be doing - Erin actually does hers at _home_ \- but there's too much going on in her head to concentrate. 

Her mom has to call her to dinner like four times before she drags herself off the bed and goes to the kitchen. 

"Erin, honey, why aren't you eating?" Her mom asks at some point, a strange combination of concern and admonishment.

"Not that hungry," she mutters.

"Elbows off the table, kiddo.

Her dad adds,  "Everything okay at school today?" 

"Yeah."  It takes a moment before she remembers, "Oh, can you take me to Fall Fest tomorrow?"

"I thought you and Jilly were going on Saturday."

"We are," Erin answers, hoping that's still true.  "But, um...Kyle Hammond asked if I wanted to go with him on Friday night."

Her parents exchange a look, not even bothering to hide their surprise, but her mom's is quickly chased away with absolute delight as she assures Erin that of course they'll take her.  Her dad jumps in to talk sternly about curfews and being on time to be picked up, but even he seems to be hiding a smile. 

It's the exact opposite of the way Jillian had reacted, and it makes Erin feel both better and worse at the same time.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Erin starts to stuff the bag of Jillian's thrift store purchases into her backpack, but she hesitates when her eyes land on the bright red bow tie, nestled on top of a dingy flannel sleeve.  Jillian had been most excited about that, and Erin had made a joke about her dressing like a magician ("That's a brilliant idea, let's look an see if they have a top hat!"). 

On impulse, Erin plucks the bow from the bag before zipping the rest of the clothes securely inside, then hurries back to her room for a last minute clothing change.

She puts on her white button down, then pulls a gray sweater over it, one wear the neckline hangs low enough under the collar that she can secure the bow tie around her neck where it's perfectly visible. 

It's hardly one of Jillian's outrageous outfits, but the simple accessory is still noticeably something that Erin or anyone who isn't Jillian would never wear to school. 

Jillian's already in their usual seat on the bus when Erin gets on, but she's leaning against the window and pretending not to notice this is Erin's stop (only one after hers, so she _knows_ ). 

"Morning."  Erin's voice comes out almost shy as she drops into the seat beside her. 

"Hey."  Jillian glances over reluctantly, but her eyes instantly catch on the red underneath Erin's chin and stay there.

She smiles like she's trying not to.  "That's mine."

"You forgot your stuff yesterday."  She pats her backpack to indicate she has the rest.  "But I borrowed this."

Jillian presses a finger to the center of the bow, like she's pressing a button.  "Abracadabra.  Gilbert the Magnificent."   

Erin feels herself blushing for some reason.  She slides a bit lower on the bus seat, trying to match Jillian's random, silly accent.  "For my next trick...I will make you...stop being mad at me."

The smile leaves Jillian's face.  She starts winding her fingers around a lanyard dangling off the zipper of her backpack, this green and pink neon thing she made in third grade.  "Well, I'm not mad at you, so that's not a very good trick."

Erin can never keep up a joke very long, so she just says, "You _seemed_ mad at me."

Jillian's quiet for awhile.  Erin hates when she's quiet.  They've gone a whole other bus stop before she asks softly, "Do you like him?"

Erin closes her eyes, because it feels weird to have this kind of conversation.  Jillian's using the voice Erin only knows from sleepovers, her middle of the night, pitch dark voice.  But the bus is loud and the sun is so bright in the morning and Erin's never known how serious her face gets to match that voice.  

"Not really."  Erin's whispering, now, too.  "But I never...really thought there was any point in me liking _any_ _body._ " 

"Oh."  Jillian's voice is small.  After a moment, she reaches over and absently straightens the bowtie.  "Well.  Just as long as we can still go on Saturday to Fall Fest because I need funnel cake and you know that's serious business." 

"Of course."

 

* * *

 

Erin's a heap of nerves and quiet on the ride to the fairgrounds Friday night.  She keeps fiddling with the tape deck of her mom's car, just to give her hands something to do; one of Jillian's tapes is in there, all bouncing soaring pop music that Erin tries to soak in.

"I'll be right here at 9:30," her mom reminds her for the thousandth time.

"I know," Erin says between her teeth, which have suddenly clamped together, so hard her jaw aches. 

It doesn't take her long to find Kyle, leaning casually near the entrance.  He smiles lazily at her, but his presence doesn't feel comforting.  As they exchange greetings, Erin hooks her hands together behind her back, testing how her palm and fingers will feel in case there's any hand holding. 

"I'm starving," Kyle announces once they've purchased wristbands and walked inside (he paid for hers, and Erin flushed and thanked him, giddy because she knows that means it's a _real_ date).  "Wanna get a funnel cake or something?"

Erin nods, smiling to herself.  She and Jillian always save funnel cake for last, _after_ the rides.  Their fingers always end up sticky from licking sugar off, shirts dusted with white powder.  Her smile fades at the memory; she needs to keep both her hands and clothes _clean_ in front of Kyle.  So she ends up picking a few tiny, unsatisfying bites of the dessert, but Kyle doesn't seem to notice as he clean the plate himself.

With the food no longer between them, even Kyle seems to momentarily falter.  He looks at his watch, and then Erin does the same.  Still several hours to kill.  "So, uh.  You wanna ride some rides?"

"Sure." 

They go on the tilt-a-whirl, and the biggest version of bumper cars, and the ride that looks like a giant boat, swinging like a pendulum. Then Kyle informs her his favorite ride is the thing called the Tornado: a high, tilted circle with egg shaped seats that swivel back and forth while the circle spins.  It gets pretty high and steep, and Erin's always been afraid to go on it, but she just nods and follows him to the line.

It's getting easier to talk at least.  For most of the evening, Kyle's been talking about basketball and his friends, but somehow in line for the Tornado they start talking about the teachers at school they can't stand, and Erin actually makes him laugh a few times (mostly by repeating things Jillian's said, but he doesn't have to know that). 

The Tornado is kind of awful, but Erin doesn't feel sick, just kind of dizzy.  She screws her eyes shut a one point, and _that_ is the moment Kyle decides to take her hand.  His is a little sweaty, but it's nice that he squeezes as the ride reaches it's peak, and then asks if she's okay when they finally slow to a stop. 

"I'm good," Erin says faintly, unable to keep herself from looking at their joined hands.  They have to let go when the attendant comes over to lift the metal bar off their laps, and Kyle smiles at her, sweet and kind of crooked.  "Would you wanna go on the ferris wheel." 

"Yes," she says, really fast.

On the way there, they don't hold hands but they walk a little closer than before.  They pass a row of game booths, and Erin's eyes fall on the one with a table full of empty fish bowls, kids throwing ping pong balls trying to ring one.  She smiles.  "We played that game for like an hour last year," she tells Kyle.  "Jillian won _four_ goldfish."

"She's like your best friend, right?"  Kyle asks. 

There's something not-quite-nice about his tone, but Erin just nods.  "Yeah, since third grade."  As soon as the words are out of her mouth, heat sweeps across Erin's skin, and she winces.  Like just bringing up third grade around Kyle - who spent it calling her names and laughing at her - is dangerous. 

He doesn't seem to notice, and instead keeps talking about Jillian, the edges of his voice going even sharper.  "Why's she always dress so weird?" 

Erin bristles slightly, fight rising in her throat.  "She just wears what she wants.  It's not _weird_." 

"Oh, come on," he says dismissively.  "It's sure as hell not _normal_.  My mom says people who try that hard to be different just want attention."

The accusation stings just as hard when applied to Jillian as it used to with her therapist and her parents.  Erin scowls.  "Trust me, Jillian doesn't care about getting anyone's attention.  Especially at school."

They've made it to the back of the line for the ferris wheel, and Kyle rolls his eyes but holds up his hands in surrender.  "Okay, okay.  Geez, sorry." 

"It's fine," Erin murmurs, treating that more like an actual apology than Kyle probably meant, but still the air has soured between them, and neither say anything the whole time they're waiting in line, or the first two times the ferris wheel goes around.

Then Kyle takes her hand on the seat between them, and when Erin looks at him, a little startled at the unexpected gesture, he's smiling in this soft, sincere way that seems like a much better _sorry_.  "I'm glad you agreed to come tonight," he tells her.  "I've always thought you were really cute...like, even when we were little kids, I had a major crush on you." 

"Really?"  Erin flushes, thinking about third grade again, Kyle making fun of her, running by her on the playground with a jacket pulled over his head, pretending to be a ghost.  But she's heard about this before, that boys tease girls they like.  Maybe that's all it was.

He nods, a little sheepish himself, and it makes her like him again.  It's fully nighttime by now, the sky black and star freckled above them, and from the top of the ride, it's like Fall Fest is the only patch of light in the world. 

The eye contact becomes too much for Erin, and her gaze drops to their joined hands, but a heartbeat of a moment later, Kyle's leaned close and pushed his lips against hers. 

It takes a moment for Erin's mind to catch up - _kissing!  This is kissing!  This is my first kiss!_ \- and she purses her lips back against his, which seems to be all the invitation Kyle needs to put his arms around her and tug her closer.  Kyle's tongue pries Erin's lips apart and hits her teeth, and she can feel his hand on her back, tracing the outline of her bra beneath her shirt.  It's wet and messy and weird, but kind of exciting, and Erin keeps forgetting to keep her eyes shut. 

They kiss - _make out, actually, Erin's pretty sure this qualifies as making out and she kind of can't believe she's doing it_ \- until the ferris wheel slows down and they get back to the bottom, where a smirky ride operator opens the door and raises his eyebrows at Erin.  She kind of wishes that part hadn't happened. 

"We gotta do the corn maze before closing," Kyle tells her when they're back on solid ground. 

Hesitant, Erin says, "I don't know...isn't it kind of dark?"

"Yeah, that's the only time it's even worth it.  Since it's not even a _haunted_ maze.  Let's go."  He takes her hand and starts in the direction of the maze. 

The corn maze is another thing Erin and Jillian don't usually do here.  Erin doesn't like dark, and she doesn't like tight spaces, so the idea of walking between two rows of corn stalks that are twice her height kind of freaks her out. 

But Kyle seems excited, and maybe if he holds her hand the whole time it won't be so bad.

It's worse in the maze than Erin feared; the noise of the fair is muted and far away, and path between stalks is tight and narrow.  Kyle doesn't seem too concerned about finding their way out, and for the first five minutes he tells her all about the haunted corn maze a few towns over; apparently he goes with his brothers every Halloween, and in addition to the fun of being lost in the dark, there are people walking around in costumes and masks who jump out to scare you.

Even though Erin knows there's none of that here, just hearing him talk about it put her on edge. 

"I kinda feel like we're just walking in circles...don't you think we're back close to the corner again?"  Erin squints up, like the sky can help her get her bearings.  Kyle doesn't answer.  She glances back, repeats herself,  "Don't you thi - "

He isn't there.

Erin's heart falls hard against the top of her stomach.  "Kyle?"  She pivots around in all directions, raising her voice as much as she can manage.  "K-Kyle?"

She's not sure how this happened, how she took some wrong turn in the last minute and got so far away that he can't hear her.  She wraps her arms around her stomach and forces herself to stay completely still, trying not to breathe too hard, so she can listen. 

It's quiet, except for the distant competing music of the rides, and Erin's breath is starting to ricochet in and out of her lungs too quickly, not settling.  Her legs feel shaky and fragile beneath her weight, and she can't decide whether she should stay put or walk. 

Several excruciating moments pass with no sign of Kyle, and Erin can't stand being here anymore.  Without thinking it through, she starts speed walking back in the direction they came, but after a turn or two she's completely lost again. 

Panic is starting to roll around in her insides.  Erin can't stop shaking.  She isn't sure what to do, but she's afraid to stop walking, like as soon as she stands still again she's going to really, truly freak out, whatever that might entail.

She's been walking for what seems like forever, and it's too dark for Erin to properly see her watch and she's starting to worry that the music is going to stop and the distant lights will go off and she's going to be left here by herself long past the time she's supposed to meet her mom -

" _BOOO!_ " 

Someone grabs Erin from behind, a hand clasping over her eyes, and she let out a horrified, startled scream, sprinting away out of instinct and immediately colliding with another hard body.  Then she's on her back in the dirt, wrapping her arms around her head in a protective, cowering move, and a flash goes off above her. 

It takes a moment for the sheer terror roaring in her ears to quiet enough for Erin to hear the laughter.

Kyle's standing over her.  And so is CJ St. Clair and Drew Cass and Jason Willhelm.  Drew's got a camera, the same kind of Polaroid as Jillian's dad, but they're all doing the laughing.

"Got ya, Ghost Girl," CJ says with a sneer.

Numb with disbelief, Erin shrinks away from them before getting clumsily to her feet, hating the way they're all towering over her.  Her eyes find Kyle's, searching for some kind of explanation, something to make this make sense, but there's no trace of the rest of the night in his face. 

"Good one, Hammond," Jason claps Kyle on the back, congratulatory.  "Hope you got something out of it."

His eyes jerk away from Erin before he grins, nastily.  "You know it.  Shoulda seen her on the ferris wheel...Gilbert's wilder than you think, aren't ya?" 

The guys _ooooh_ in sick, low voices.  It feels like her insides are collapsing in on themselves.  Like this moment is tight and suffocating and it might even kill her.  

"Still can't believe she thought you'd wanna date her,"  Drew mutters, not even sounding like he's talking to someone who's right there.  Who can _hear_ him. 

Kyle swats his arm.  "Let's see the photos."

He hands over three Polaroids that Erin hadn't noticed before.  "They're still coming in, but I got her face." 

"Let's get out of here."  CJ nods, and they turn and start to walk off.

Suddenly, blood red rage stampedes through Erin, so powerful she can't see straight, and it's like it takes her over, so she reaches out and seizes the first thing her hands can find, the hood of Kyle's sweatshirt, and she yanks _hard_ , slamming him onto the ground. 

He doesn't move for a long, terrible moment, long enough that Erin's thoughts unravel - _oh, God, oh, God, he's hurt he's dead instead of college I'm going to have to hope to get in a decent prison_ \- but then Kyle's eyes open and flare, his whole face igniting in a mix of fury and shame, and then his leg shoots up, catching Erin behind the ankle and yanking her feet out from under her.

Erin puts her arms out behind her to try to catch her weight, and she slams down hard on her left wrist, feeling a sickening sort of  _pop_ and this time when she screams, it's because it hurts so much.  Her vision explodes with white light, and it's barely started to clear before Kyle, on his feet again, kicks dirt in her face.  "Fuck you," he mutters, like _she's_ the bad one. 

Erin's vaguely aware of the boys walking off.  The pain recedes slowly, at least enough so she knows she's not seriously hurt, but she still can't make herself stand up. 

Instead she starts crying.  Real, serious crying; big, baby sobs while she lies curled up in the dirt. 

It takes awhile for Erin to stop crying.  Her arm hurts, and she feels small, and dirty, and alone...and so, _so_ stupid.

Eventually, the tears seem to dry up, though her breaths still come out jerky and sharp, and the reality of her situation sinks in.  Fresh fear speeding through her, Erin brings her solar system watch as close to her face she can...she can barely make out the minute hand, almost to the 3.

That probably means it's around 9:15, and she has to meet her mom really soon. And there's no way Kyle and the others are going to tell the workers checking tickets at the front of the maze that she's still in here.

She has to find her way out.

Standing up slowly, Erin closes her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, counting under her breath the way Dr. Potts tells her to.  Her heart is beating so hard it feels like it's about to launch out of her body. 

Erin wishes Jillian were here.  She would know what to do. 

Her left wrist is throbbing and limp at her side, so Erin puts out her good hand and touches the stalks to the right of her. 

She starts walking as fast as she can, her fingers constantly skimming the makeshift wall to her right, taking only right turns, making up a map in her head and reasoning that this strategy should eventually spit her out at either the entrance or exit. 

It takes awhile - two minutes past 9:30 - but she makes it, and Erin pulls her sleeve over her right hand across her face, trying to rid her skin of dirt and tear streaks as she walks shakily toward the exist of the fairgrounds.

"You're late," is the first thing her mom says when Erin gets into the passenger seat, her left hand hidden in the pocket of her sweatshirt and her head tilted slightly down.  

"Sorry," her voice sounds thin and shaky, so Erin swallows hard before saying in a more forcibly cheerful tone.  "We were doing the corn maze...it took forever to get out."

"Well.  Did you have fun?" 

"Yeah."  Erin turns out the window, unable to look at her mom while she lies.  She knows this night reflects badly on her.  Her mom won't want to hear that a boy didn't really want to date her - _of course he didn't, why would he?_ \- or that this was all about Ghost Girl, as always. 

Her mom switches from the radio to the tape deck, Jillian's music filling the car and loosening the knot in Erin's throat, just a little. 

"Can we stop and pick up Jillian?"  Erin says suddenly.  "She's spending the night." 

There's no actual plan, but Jillian spends so many nights at their house that Erin's mom accepts it, instantly and easily agreeing. "You girls probably have a lot to talk about, huh?"  Her mom says with a smile, looking away from the road to throw Erin a conspiratorial wink, and she hums something unintelligible in response. 

Leaning her forehead against the window, Erin starts to count in her head.  She gets all the way to 556 before her mom pulls up in front of Jillian's house and puts the car in park while Erin gets out. 

Instead of going to the front door, Erin steps through the bushes, her arm still tucked gingerly in her pocket, so she can get right up to Jillian's bedroom window, the lights still on.  She raps out their familiar, agreed upon rhythm, and a few seconds later the curtain parts and Jillian's staring at her.  Erin points in the direction of the front door, and they both walk away at the same time. 

When she opens the door, Jillian's expression is closed off, but barely five seconds of looking at Erin standing under the porch light and concern chases it away.  "What happened?" 

Erin bites her lip, shaking her head slightly.  "Will you please come spend the night?"  Her voice rises and cracks at the end. 

Jillian nods right away.  "Let me tell my dad.  One sec, okay?" 

She disappears, leaving the door open, and returns only two minutes later, a few items of clothes clutched in her arms.  She squints her eyes, scrutinizing Erin closely, but she seems to understand Erin doesn't want to talk about it yet. 

They get in the backseat together, the way they always still do when they're both in the car, and that makes Erin feel less exposed than when she was sitting upfront with her mom.  As they pull away from the curb, Jillian starts singing along with the tape, her voice filling the car like it's something Erin can hide behind.

When they get to Erin's house, Jillian leads the way to her bedroom, not even stopping to say hi to Erin's dad, and as soon as they're inside she turns on Erin, face tight and urgent.  "What's wrong?" 

Erin can feel her lip trembling.  She sits down on her bed and Jillian joins her, not once looking away from her, and Erin barely whispers, "It was just a trick." 

Then she's crying again. 

"Erin!"  Jillian's hand comes to rest on her thigh.  "Don't cry, please please please don't."  She can't help it. "Aw, shit...damn it....Erin?  Please, Er, can you tell me what happened?  What did he do?"  

Erin doesn't think she's ever heard Jillian so worried and uncertain.  She makes a fist with her right hand and presses it to her lips, trying hard to stop crying _again_.  "You were right," she manages eventually, the words coming out all jagged and broken.  "He, he wasn't nice, he'd never want to date me - "

"I never said - "

"We did that haunted corn maze...and, and he left me alone....and I was walking arou, around by myself and it was so dark and sc-scary..."  Frowning deeply, Jillian starts wiping away Erin's tears, almost frantic, as though stopping them will get Erin to calm down, stop forcing this story out between heaving, choking breaths.  "And then his friend...somebody grabbed me from, from behind...covered my eyes...yelled b-boo, and I fell...they, they took pictures..." 

In a dangerous, unfamiliar voice, her best friend demands, " _Who_ did?"

"Kyle and CJ and Drew and Ja, Jason."

Jillian lets out a low hiss.  Her face is all boarded up with anger, but it softens when Erin's eyes seek hers.  "Keep going.  It's okay."

"That's it.  They ran off...well, first I pulled on Kyle's hood and knocked him down."

" _Good_."

"But then he tripped me and I fell, too.  _Then_ they ran off.  With pictures of me.  After we'd had the whole night going on rides and stuff together...it was just a _joke_."  Sniffling, feeling utterly pathetic, Erin adds in a whiny voice, "And my arm really hurts from when I fell." 

Jillian glances down at Erin's stomach, apparently just now noticing that she's had her left hand in her hoodie pocket the whole evening.  "Let me see." 

Carefully, Erin pulls her arm out, deliberately not looking at herself, but her stomach rolls unpleasantly when she hears Jillian's instant, "Holy _shit_.  Erin!"

Reluctantly, Erin glances down, and her guts jolt unpleasantly like she's about to throw up.  Her whole hand is swollen, the skin a gross mix of dark purple and light green.

"Did you show your mom?"  It's been years and years since Erin's seen Jillian be this serious for this long at a time. 

"No," she admits softly.  "I didn't want to tell her what happened." 

Jillian purses her lips and narrows her eyes, thinking.  "Okay.  You don't have to.  Just tell her you tripped and fell.  But I'm thinking that's prooooobably broken and you need to go to the doctor."

Erin's eyes fill up fresh, and she practically whimpers, "I don't want to," fully aware she sounds like a baby, but she just wants this night to be over.  She wants to get in her bed with Jillian the way they always do and maybe talk about something completely different until they laugh themselves to sleep.

Jillian isn't usually a proponent of telling parents things, but Erin can tell she's not going to get what she wants this time.  \

"I'm sorry," Jillian says, and she really looks it, too, but three seconds later she draws a breath and shouts loudly, "Deeee-eeeeeeb!" 

Footsteps make their way down the hall even as Erin shoots Jillian an angry look, and then her mom is opening the bedroom door.  "You girls needs something?" 

Jillian points her index finger at Erin, like a little kid _tattling_ , for God's sakes, and says, "Erin hurt her hand at Fall Fest." 

Erin isn't quick enough to hide it, and her mother's hand flies to her mouth before she comes to crouch down in front of them, gently taking her daughter by the elbow.  "Oh, my God....ROB!" 

Soon both her parents are there, and they keep asking why she didn't say anything but in a way that's so shocked and frantic they don't even seem to need an answer.  Her mom's petting her hair a lot, and she must just assume Erin's been crying because it hurts.

"We've got to take you to the ER..."  

"Can't we go tomorrow?," Erin begs.   

"No, sweetheart, we don't wanna wait on getting it in a cast, if that's what you need..." 

Her dad brings a ziploc bag full of ice in from the fridge and has Erin hold it over her swollen hand as they walk to a car. 

"Jillian, hon, we'll drop you back at your house - "

"No, thanks, I want to go to the hospital," she interrupts quickly. 

Erin's parents look at each other, unconvinced.  Her dad raises an eyebrow.  "You sure, kiddo?  Could be a late night."

"I want to come," she repeats.  "Please." 

"Please, Dad?"  Erin blurts out without thinking.  She really, really doesn't want Jillian to go. 

So all four of them go to the Emergency Room, and Jillian stays glued to Erin's side the whole time.  When the doctor starts touching her hand, and Erin lets out a stuck, high pitched whine, both her parents start to get up from their chairs but Jillian's closer, slipping her fingers into the ones on Erin's unbroken hand and letting her squeeze as tight as she needs.  She doesn't let go the whole rest of the visit.

It's after one am when they get home, and Erin has a purple cast that goes almost to her elbow.  Her mom gives her two painkillers to swallow and tells them both to go right to bed.

For once, Jillian actually goes quiet when they get in bed and turn off the lights.  Erin's the one to break the silence, her voice tiny.  "I didn't tell you the worst part." 

She hears Jillian suck in a harsh breath.  "What's worse than all that?"

It feels like a great effort to say, each word dragged from her throat by force, and they come out crumpled up and ashamed of themselves.  "Before the maze, when I still thought it was a real date...Kyle kissed me on the ferris wheel."  Erin pauses, waiting for a grossed out reaction, but Jillian's just quiet.  Erin hears her swallow. 

When she still doesn't say anything, Erin adds,  "Like we kissed...kind of a lot.  And now...that's my first kiss.  Forever."  Her voice snags.  "Every time anyone asks for my first kiss story I have to tell that one." 

"Nope," Jillian protests, popping the _p_ with conviction.  "I don't think it counts, when it's like that.  Let's just decide that wasn't your first kiss, and you don't ever have to tell it to anyone."

"But I'll still _know_.  I'll still have to remember what he did..."  She taps her fingers against the plaster of the cast; she's been doing that obsessively for the last hour, and Erin hates the thought of having to go into school Monday with it on.  She's stuck with proof of tonight for the next six weeks.  "God, I'm so _stupid -_ " 

"No you're not!" Jillian protests in what sounds like genuine annoyance. 

" - for _ever_ thinking he'd actually want to go out with me."  Drew's voice, saying pretty much the same thing, clatters in her ears.  "That _anyone_ would.  I should've listened to you - "

"But I never said he wouldn't want to go out with you," Jillian corrects her.  "I just didn't see why you'd want to go out with him.  Even before all this...you're _so_ much better than him, Erin.  Any of them.  And that's..."  Her voice falters a little, and Erin scoots a little closer under the covers.  "That's really all I meant.  He's gonna end up so completely sorry he wasted his chance to date you, for real." 

Erin smiles into the darkness, even though she doesn't believe it, she can tell Jillian does.  That's not nothing. 

"I'm sorry," Erin says after a moment of silence. 

"What for?"  Jillian asks, sounding genuinely confused.  

"I dunno," Erin mumbles, only sort of lying, because she's not sure how to articulate what's got her feeling suddenly, achingly guilty; she messed up somehow, stupidly going on this date.  Like she betrayed Jillian's belief in her.  Or betrayed their friendship, maybe, the fact that they've always been enough for each other.  Then, wanting to give her more, she adds, "Thanks for coming over.  I just...I really wanted to see you." 

"Always," Jillian murmurs sleepily, nudging her foot against Erin's like a promise. 

Erin's body is starting to feel heavy with exhaustion, and she shifts a little on the mattress to accommodate her left arm.  She's barely gotten into a comfortable position, ready to start drifting off, when Jillian says, quiet but full of feeling, "I hate him."

"Me, too," Erin echoes without hesitation. 

"I hate all of them," Jillian clarifies.  "We shall enact our revenge.  You'll see." 


	4. track four: Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the massive delay on this. I took a "vacation" back to my hometown for like two weeks to visit my cousin and her new baby, and I planned on getting a ton of writing done there, but I underestimated the allure of an adorable newborn. Basically, I was entirely unproductive.

 

 _It's the terror of knowing_  
_What the world is about_  
_Watching some good friends_  
_Screaming_

_"Let me out!"_

* * *

 

Erin wears a sweater to school on Monday and pulls the sleeve as far as she can to hide the cast, which is now covered with 32 versions of Jillian's signature, full name.  She didn't sleep much the night before, too tangled up in worry about school - wondering what those guys are going to do with the photos of her, dreading having to sit next to Kyle in Earth Science - so Erin's disheveled and out of it when she trudges to the bus stop.

She avoids eye contact with anyone in the first ten or so rows of the bus, overly conscious of her left arm limp at her side, before slumping into the seat beside Jillian. 

"Good morning, starshine," Jillian hums.  " _Yikes_.  You look like you need cup o'joe."  Erin doesn't answer, so Jillian gives a gentle knock on the sleeve of her sweater.  "How's the limb?" 

"Okay."  Erin habitually tugs her sleeve even lower.  "I really don't wanna do this."

Jillian frowns, plunging her hand into her bag and emerging with a plastic cassette case, which she thrusts at Erin.  "I made you a tape because you're sad.  _Aaaaand_..."  With a flourish, she produces her own Walkman.  "...brought ya this.  You can borrow it today, in case you, uh.  Want to listen to music between classes." 

The unspoken end of the sentence -  _so you can ignore people making fun of you_ \- hangs in the air anyway.  Erin manages a small, grateful smile, accepting the offering.  Her hands free, Jillian dives into her bag one more time and pulls out a notebook.  "I'm still brainstorming plots for vengeance, but it's a difficult task...there's tons I could do to him, or his car, or his house, but I think the real key is public humiliation.  And since you said whatever we do has to be..."  She sighs, eyerolls, and curls her fingers into air quotes.  "... _legal_ , I'm kind of limited." 

"Maybe we should just forget it."  The idea of _revenge_ feels a lot sillier on a school day, on her way to face the fallout of what Kyle and the others did. 

"N'way," Jillian splays open her notebook and hits it with her palm.  "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, I can _feeeel_ it." 

Erin glances down at the page; she can make out a few scrawled phrases between Jillian's fingers: _shave off his eyebrows_ and _blow up his parents car???_

"You are _not_ blowing up a car," Erin stares sternly, but she's almost smiling. 

Jillian tips her head back and groans theatrically.  "I _knoooow_.  That's why there's an asterisk: for illegal ideas."  She slams the notebook shut with both hands.  "I'll get there.  You'll love it.  Promise." 

Erin pulls a skeptical face.  Suddenly, Jillian's eyes widen, before before Erin can ask what's wrong, her best friend launches into a rushed monologue without pauses, "I think you'll like the tape I made it last night there's some Guns N' Roses and Queen and that one Madonna song we were dancing to last week - "

Suspicious, Erin twists around in her seat just in time to see Drew Cass coming up the aisle.  Her stomach clamps up instantly, and she turns back to Jillian, who's still rambling determinedly about the mix tape's tracklist.  "Come on Eileen and a couple of Rolling Stones songs, I try not to do doubles but I couldn't decide between Ruby Tuesday and She's A Rainbow, but they're on separate sides so it's okay, and then Devo and Talking Heads - "

"Good photos of you, Ghost Girl," Drew chants loudly as he passes by, kicking at Erin's seat for good measure.  She can't help looking back, to see him waving a Poloroid with a sneer on his face.

Erin turns back to Jillian, who stops talking when she sees the look on her face.  "He's gonna show everyone," she whispers, her voice all watery with tears rising up her throat.  

Jillian puts her knees on the bus seat and lifts herself up to track Drew's movements to the last row.  In contrast, Erin slouches low in the seat, absolutely _not_ looking, when suddenly Jillian launches herself over Erin's lap and into the aisle. 

" _Jill_ ," she hisses, turning around to watch her friend speed walk to the back of the bus toward Drew, who's showing the photo to a group of girls with such concentration he doesn't see the blonde whirlwind of Jillian Holtzmann coming at him until she grabs his wrist with one hand and fists the photo with her other. 

"Hey!  Get the fuck off - "  Drew shoves Jillian away, but she's got the Polaroid, crumpled in her fist, and quickly rips it into pieces before throwing the makeshift confetti theatrically on the whole back row. 

" _Holtzmanned_!"  She declares in a deep voice, pumping a fist before pointing her index finger inches from Drew's face and going into a witch-like British accent, "A plague on both your houses!" 

Then she turns on her heel and strides back to her and Erin's seat.  She salutes with two fingers as she sits.  "Took care of _that_." 

"They've still got more," she counters automatically, and then grimaces at herself.  Why can't she just be a normal person and appreciate that she has a best friend who stands up for her like that.  "But thank you.  That was...bad ass."  

Jillian's eyes light up, sparkling with delight at the rare curse word from Erin.  "It was kinda fun.  If I see them with the others, I'll take those, too." 

Erin's chest warms.  She tucks her hand through the crook of Jillian's elbow and tugs lightly.  "You're the best." 

Jillian beams at her and scooches a little closer on the bus seat; Erin keeps her hand where it is for the rest of the ride.  When the bus screeches to a heavy stop in the school parking lot, Erin has the sudden, stupid wish to stay like this all day, physically linked to her best friend.

 

* * *

 

They have to split up too soon, though, and the separation eats away all the good feeling left in Erin, so she spends homeroom sinking into a hole of self loathing deep enough to bury herself. 

There is no reason in the world why _Erin_ couldn't have been the one to grab that photo on the bus.  All Jillian had done was walk and grab;  _toddlers_ did that.  It's not like it had taken physical strength, or brainpower, or anything else Erin doesn't have except courage. 

So. Freaking. Pathetic.  Pathetic pathetic _pathetic_.  She's such a baby, such a coward, such a weak little loser who needs pills to keep from freaking out, except what's the point, why can't they at least make her take something that turns her into the sort of person who could stand up for herself, instead of a crybaby in a cornfield who no one would ever  actually want to kiss -

Without realizing it, she's been pushing her broken arm against the underside of her desk, hard, making it hurt again. 

It scares her a little.  Erin relaxes her body, then reaches her good hand into her bag, tracing the corners of the cassette Jillian made her. 

As soon as the bell rings, she takes out the Walkman and covers her ears with headphones, the music a distraction just like Jillian had intended...except Erin's not drowning out other people's taunts and whispers, but her own angrily pounding thoughts.  

 

* * *

 

It takes until second period for other people to add to the black static of bad noise surrounding Erin.  She guesses the guys spent the morning showing the surviving Polaroids around, and now the story has spread enough that people are definitely looking at her and laughing, and she gets a couple "Ghost Girls" just walking into class.

But it's Algebra, and that means Jillian's there, too, baring her teeth and growling - _literally,_ like she just cues up an impression of a cartoon wolf - at anyone who so much as looks oddly at Erin. 

After lunch, though, they have no more classes together, and Erin's on her own.  And maybe really are scared of Jillian by now, or at least she makes them really uncomfortable, because way more people laugh and make fun of Erin to her face when she's by herself.  

She's seen most of the guys throughout the day, Drew and CJ and Jason, always waving a photo and giving her mean, dirty smiles that make her insides go liquid.  CJ even yells across a classroom to ask if he can sign her cast.  But she still hasn't seen Kyle, and the closer she gets to Earth Science, the second to last class period of the day, the worse she feels.  

She puts on the headphones for Jillian's Walkman and keeps her gaze trained straight ahead on the walk to class.  She's counting in her head and breathing very deliberately but she still only makes it to the door of the science room.  She can see Kyle sitting at their lab table, her own chair empty and waiting beside him.  She thinks out of nowhere about the ferris wheel, the way he'd slid close to her from across the bench seat, and Erin's throat narrows and her mouth dries up and without even thinking about it, without really making a  _choice_ , she spins around and heads back down the hall, away from the classroom, and doesn't stop even when the one minute warning bell rings.

Dazed and panicked, Erin walks to Jillian's classroom - Mrs.Slack, fifth period Language Arts.  She doesn't get there until after the final bell rings and the hallway clears out, she can't see Jillian through the narrow window on the door anyway, and this was a stupid idea.  

Erin changes course and shuts herself in the last stall of the girl's bathroom.  Her hands are shaking when she wipes the toilet seat clean then sits down with her jeans still on, letting hot, embarrassed tears spill down her cheeks. 

She's never skipped a class in her life.  And this doesn't change anything; she'll still have to sit next to Kyle tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and on and on for the rest of the year.  All this means today is that he'll  _know_  that Erin with her stupid broken arm was too nervous to face him. 

She can't help crying.  Erin turns up the music as loud as it will go so she can't hear her own shallow, jagged breathing.  It's Jillian's second favorite Queen song, the one with David Bowie; she really likes singing this one, especially the near nonsense words.  The weekend before last, on a  _good_ Friday night, Erin sat on the kitchen counter besides the microwave, watching Jillian slide around in her socked feet on the kitchen tile and sing while they waited for popcorn to finish popping.  So Erin thinks about that moment and that Friday night until her skin feels like it fits again.

What's ridiculous is that even with everything else, the broken arm and the photographs and the bullying, in the deepest part of Erin's gut it feels like the worst part is knowing for sure that getting asked on a date, being told someone _likes_  her, is never going to be anything but a joke.  

That's the part she can't tell Jillian.  She wouldn't understand.  Jillian has no interest in boys, in dating anyone, and if she did...well, she probably wouldn't have a problem.  Even if the other kids do think she's weird, and would never in a million years be able to keep up with her brain....Jillian's so  _pretty_.  Pretty and funny and fearless.

Erin's just Ghost Girl.

 

* * *

 

Erin leaves the bathroom when the bell rings, avoiding even a sideways glance in the mirror.  She doesn't want to know how obvious it is that she's been crying.

She gets the answer anyway; Jillian's waiting by Erin's locker, and her face falls when she sees her.  "Not good?"

"I didn't go." 

"Oh.  That's okay," Jillian's voice is definitive, but it takes her an uncharacteristically long moment to find something to grin about.  "Hey!  You skipped a class!  Ya lil rebel, you."  She pokes Erin in the side and she smiles reflexively.  "But invite me next time, _pleeeease_.  I'll skip class whenEVER."  

"Yeah, okay," Erin says, trying to get her voice somewhere close to normal.  "You could probably think of something better to do then hide in a bathroom."

Sympathy creases Jillian's face, but she blows out a dismissive breath.  "Pffft, yeah, we can do better.  We should skip a whole school day.  Go somewhere we can, like...ride roller coasters, or break into a zoo." 

" _Break into_ a zoo?"

"Sure, you think they're gonna let in two kids in the middle of a school day?"

"Ha.  I dunno." 

"You....wanna skip sixth period, too?" 

"I.  No.  I should go.  I need to go.   _Crap_ , I didn't go to science  _at all_ , I don't know what I missed - "

"Chill, nerd, you know all that anyway." 

"There could've been a quiz." 

"I had it first period.  No quiz.  No experiments.  Nothing interesting."  The first warning bell rings, and Jillian tugs gently on Erin's left sleeve.  "C'mon.  One more class and then we're _freeeee_."  Erin nods, takes a brave breath, and falls into step behind Jillian, who's now singing _Free Fallin'_ barely under her breath.

They split off to their separate classrooms, and Erin tries to focus really hard on being as engaged and studious like it can make up for her skipped class, but she also keeps watching the wall clock, wishing desperately for three pm and the final bell.

When it finally comes, Erin puts the headphones on before she even gets out of the classroom, relief whooshing through her for the conclusion of a school day.  Jillian's sixth period class isn't far from hers, so she keeps an eye out as the hallway floods with students, The Rolling Stones in her ears mostly drowning out their noise.  

Suddenly the music cuts out as the headphones go flying off her head.  Erin turns just as the cord disconnects from the Walkman.  Kyle is smirking at her, one finger curled around the black cord before he lets the headphones clatter to the floor between his feet.  

"Missed you in class, Ghost Girl," He sneers.  "Had a photo I wanted you to autograph." 

Heat prickles across Erin's skin, and she jerks her eyes away from his.  She reaches down for the headphones, just wanting to grab them and get away from him, but Kyle places his heel over one of the earphones and stamps down; Erin hears the crunch of plastic and flinches, remembering the sound her wrist made Friday night when she fell.

"Those aren't  _mine_ ," she shouts angrily, and when he lifts his stupid freaking grinning face to look at her, Erin swipes at him with her left arm, the one with the cast, slamming against his nose with hard, purple plaster.

Kyle lets out this strangled, high pitched scream, followed by a loud bark of the F-word.  Erin didn't even get him with her fist, just some random part of the forearm, but the cast is heavy and there's blood dripping between Kyle's fingers.  People in the hallway are starting to watch,  _ooh-_ ingand laughing and circling around like something else might be about to happen - 

\- but suddenly Jillian's there, grabbing a hold of Erin's arm and pivoting her in the opposite direction, leading her firmly toward their lockers, away from the fray.

"He broke your headphones, I'm sorry - "

"I got more," she says dismissively, throwing a grin over her shoulder at Erin.  "Also, truancy _and_ fighting in the same day?  Whatta badass." 

Erin smiles in a rush of something like pride, because _yeah_ , that was kind of badass of her.  "You were one first," she reminds Jillian.  "On the bus this morning."  

"Happy I inspired you, m'lady."  

 

* * *

 

"Can't believe you took care of the revenge for me," Jillian declares on the bus, looking mock despondently down at her notebook.  "It even included public humiliation."  

"So let's just stay away from him now," Erin says firmly.  The adrenaline of the hallway confrontation has worn off, leaving her freaked out by all the blatant, suspension worthy rules she broke today.  

Jillian groans dramatically, flopping low in her seat to illustrate the extent of her disappointment.  " _Fiiiiine_."  

Still, a month later, when basketball season starts, Jillian insists she and Erin go to a home game, the first school sporting event they've ever attended.  And during the first quarter, Jillian sneaks off with the backpack she'd brought along with no explanation, and doesn't return until almost halftime.

There's an unexplained delay starting the second half, and then two of the starters - Kyle Hammond and Drew Cass - come back onto the court to a steadily growing ripple of laughter and mocking applause, their hair, faces, and the top half of their jerseys dyed bright pink.

They're declared Not Regulation and not allowed to finish the game, at which point the laughter turns into booing...except for in Jillian and Erin's seats.

Jillian insists they'll never identify the devices rigged with cans spray paint in their gym lockers, much less trace them back to her.  The guys' skin holds a slight tinge of pink for the next week, and they both come to school the next day with buzz cuts.

Erin loves it.  Jillian's not completely satisfied, since Jason Willhelm apparently had no need to open his locker at half time and CJ St. Clair doesn't play basketball, and Erin has to lie a little that they were very inactive participants before Jillian agrees to stop planning Part Two.

 

* * *

 

There's a strangeness to the summer between middle and high school, like they're tightroping precariously between the final fading remnants of childhood and the first uncertain stages of adulthood.  

They still ride their bikes, though always with a distant destination in mind, never just around the neighborhood for fun.  The older teenage employees at Blockbuster stop caring if they rent R-rated videos, but they still raid the candy counter for snacks on every declared Movie Night.

One night, toward the end of July when Back to School ads are starting to signal the end of vacation, it's too disgustingly hot out for even Jillian to want to bike all the way to the junk yard,  _or_ spend time in her oppressive, claustrophobic garage tinkering with machines.  They don't even want to make the shorter trip to Blockbuster, but after a day spent entirely inside Erin's house, they need some fresh entertainment, and end up talking Erin's dad into driving them to the video store for a rental.

He hands them a small stack of cash and waits in the car while they go inside.  Erin starts roaming between the shelves, eying some of her favorites and trying to decide each time if it's been long enough for a rewatch.  Jillian didn't even get past the candy and popcorn display at the front, taking her sweet time until Erin goes to the end of an aisle and stage whispers, " _Jillian_.  You gotta help me decide so you don't get to whine about what I choose." 

Jillian skips over, smirking as she holds up a box of candy for Erin to see.  "Look!  I got these for you, and _in honor_ of you."  She rattles the box and then tosses it to Erin without warning.  "Get it?  They're Nerds _."_

"Yes, I can read," Erin replies dryly.  "C'mon, what do you want to watch?"  

She eyes the shelf where Erin's standing and then just gestures.  "Let's watch _Edward Scissorhands_  again."  

"Really?"  Erin picks up the case, surprised.  They don't agree on movies quite as easily as they do music, but both of them love this one...which means they've rented it fairly frequently since it came out on VHS.     

"Yeah, and there's this other one I wanna get, I heard people at school talking about it."  She moves with purpose a few rows over, and Erin follows with a frown.  It's the horror section, which they hardly ever choose from.

Jillian picks up a VHS case, and Erin wrinkles her nose without even seeing the title.  "What is it?"

" _The Hunger._ It's like a vampire thing.  And David Bowie's in it."  She pauses, then adds, "Plus Susan Sarandon."  They'd snuck into a movie theater earlier in the summer to watch _Thelma and Louise_ and loved it.

"Vampires?"  Erin repeats uncertainly.  "You know I don't like scary movies."  

"It's not scary," Jillian replies quickly, flushing slightly for some reason.  "I mean, I heard it's not.  It's kinda artsy and weird."  

"Why do you want to watch it so bad?"  Erin's never heard Jillian seek out a movie because _people at school_ were talking about it.  And anyway, they haven't been in school in two months.  

" _David Bowie_ is in it," Jillian repeats impatiently, snatching Edward Scissorhands out of Erin's hand and starting toward the front counter, singing "Space Oddity" a little louder than is really warranted in public.  

When they try a brand new movie, they usually start out with it, in case it's really bad or boring and they can just switch to whatever old favorite they rented.  Tonight, though, Jillian shakes her head when Erin tries to put her weirdo vampire movie in.  "Not until after your parents are asleep.  We don't know how R-rated it is."  Erin just shrugs, happy to watch  _Edward Scissorhands_.  

The last several summers, for some reason, they've always felt the need change up their sleepover routine, treat certain nights like something special: instead of sharing Erin's bed, they set up a pallet of sleeping bags and blankets in the den, pushing the couch and coffee table back so they can spread out on the floor in front of the TV, with close access to the kitchen for popcorn or ice cream.

Erin wonders idly if they're getting too old for this, sleeping in a pallet on the floor and playing board games and letting Erin's mom bring them breakfast on trays in the mornings.  She wonders if it really matters, as long as they still want to.  

They watch  _Edward Scissorhands_ , then play a few games of Guess Who? and a couple rounds of Slap Jack until Erin's parents pass by to say goodnight on their way to their room.

The rest of the house dark and quiet, Jillian finally reaches for the other VHS case.  "Ready to watch?"

There's something in her voice that makes Erin uneasy.  "Tell the truth, Jill.  Is this gonna scare me?"  

" _No_ , I swear.  I mean...it's not _supposed_ to be scary.  And I wouldn't want to scare you.  I know you don't like...that.  But it's fine.  I  _think_ it'll be fine.  We can just see, okay?" 

Jillian's eyes are wide and earnest in the blueish glow of the television, so Erin just sighs and nods in agreement.  They've got bowls of ice cream in front of them - chocolate for Jillian, strawberry for Erin - and Erin notices Jillian's poured about half a bag of gummy bears into her ball.  She sprinkles some Nerds out of the box and onto her own sundae, figuring they're basically just oversized sprinkles.

The movie starts, and Jillian's right, it doesn't seem like much of a scary film...just strange and moody and hard to follow sometimes.  

"This is weird," she ventures at one point.  

"Yeah..."  Jillian agrees almost absently.

The plot starts to pick up a bit -  Catherine Deneuve is an immortal vampire and David Bowie's been her boyfriend for something like two hundred years.  He thought he'd be young forever, but then he starts to age really fast, finding out he won't ever die, but he also won't stay young.  

Erin likes it more when Susan Sarandon comes into the story; she's already impatient for  _Thelma and Louise_ to come out on video so they can watch it again.

In this movie, she plays a doctor who specializes in aging, so David Bowie comes to her for help.  In one of her first scenes, Jillian speaks for the first time in awhile.  "Think I could pull off her haircut?"  

"I don't know...it's so short," Erin answers, then reaches over and gently tugs one of Jillian's curls.  "You've got the curls down, though." 

The movie gets disturbing for awhile, but Erin's tired enough that she keeps drifting in and out of focus, even when David Bowie gets locked in a coffin, apparently forever.  

But then Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon have their first scene together - Deneuve at a piano playing a song originally sung by two women, that Sarandon says sounds like a love song - and suddenly a line: "Are you making a pass at me, Mrs. Blaylock?" wakes Erin up and gets her attention.  

Pretty soon, Susan Sarandon's shirt is off, and the characters are kissing.  

Erin's wide eyed, propped up on her elbows and rapt on the image in front of her, a sort of shocked fascination.  She's never seen two women kiss before, and even though she's vaguely aware that it's something that exists, somewhere, she knows it's not exactly  _normal_.  

Boys and girls are the ones that kiss, almost always: on TV, in the hallways at school, in all the married couples she knows.  Lesbians are something that sometimes get mentioned, only  _mentioned_ , to make audiences laugh on sitcoms.

But this scene, in this weirdo artsy movie, is obviously not supposed to be funny.

It cuts to a bed, and Sarandon's still shirtless, and even though the angles keep changing and sheets are billowing so you can't tell exactly what they're doing, it's obviously more than just kissing.  

They've watched sex scenes before, in their rush to consume the R-rated movies that had been denied them in their more obvious childhood, to the point where Erin's not even shocked or embarrassed by them anymore.  But she feels uniquely frazzled by this one, her thoughts jumbling all together so her brain is a mess of _kissing a girl is probably really soft_  and _Susan Sarandon is pretty_ and  _I wonder what counts as sex when it's two women?_

She's so rapt in her attention that it takes her a moment to realize Jillian is watching  _her_ instead of the screen.

Erin's face flames instantly, and she jerks her gaze away like she's been caught at something.  She's not sure what it is that's showing in her face.

"Weird," she blurts out nervously, her go to adjective for the movie so far.

"Because they're gay?" Jillian asks in a strange voice.

"Yeah, no.  No.  I meant the...music.  And that they just started kissing out of nowhere after, like, barely talking?"  

She doesn't sound at all sure of what she's talking about, but Jillian seems to accept it.  "Yeah, true." 

The scene ends, and Erin's face still feels hot.  She flops down flat on her stomach, chin against the carpet, so Jillian can't see her expression.  For some reason, she feels disappointed.  It's not the sex so much she misses - she never really  _likes_ the sex scenes in movies, even one she got used to them they usually make her feel awkward to be _watching_ \- but she wouldn't mind seeing more kissing between the two.  

It feels like a discovery, something brand new after dozens and dozens of the same old thing, so of  _course_ Erin wants to linger on it a bit more.

For some reason, though she doesn't want Jillian to know she's thinking that.  But they're never this quiet in a movie, and Jillian keeps  _looking_ at her, and Erin's thoughts run ahead, worrying that she came across as some weird pervert obsessed with a sex scene.

"How'd you like it?"  Jillian asks when the movie finally ends and the credits run - there had been a little more kissing, but nothing lengthy.  

Erin tenses at the question.  She is distinctly unsettled by now, and she's glad for the dark when she finally manages, "It was fine."  Then, because she's apparently forgotten all other words, she adds, "Kinda weird, though." 

"Yah," Jillian agrees.  

They're both quiet for a really long moment.  It's not like Jillian  _at all_ to be so unresponsive, in general and definitely not to a new movie.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?"  Erin blurts out awkwardly.  

"Okay," Jillian answers.  That's it.  Just  _okay_.   _One word_ from Jillian Holtzmann.  Something is very wrong here; she for sure thinks Erin's a weirdo creep now, and can't decide what to do about it.  

They lay on the pallet, made of two sleeping bags zipped all the way open and stacked on top of each other, and separate blankets for each of them.  Erin lays there, squirming and itching in her own vague embarrassment, when suddenly Jillian breaks the quiet, "Erin?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I lied to you, and I'm very sorry about it."  The words come out in a tight, strangely rhythmic rush, like Jillian's giving a speech she's been writing in her head the last half hour.  "I heard some guys talking about  _The Hunger_  last year and after that I rented it and watched it by myself but I wanted to show you because I wanted to test how you felt about... _that scene_." 

Startled, Erin widens her eyes at Jillian's form, now sitting up with her hands folded formally in her lap.  Erin stays prostrate on the sleeping bags; she wishes she could pull the covers up over her face.  Is Jillian saying she somehow...suspected something about Erin?  Something she'd never even thought about herself until tonight?

"I figured if you weren't grossed out or something it would be a good sign and then maybe I could...tell you....about me........"  She trails off, and Erin's panic fades into pure confusion for about thirty seconds before Jillian blurts out, "Yeah, so, I like girls."  She pauses, then clarifies, "Not boys." Another pause, then, accented and drawn out,  " _Girrrrrrls_." Pause.  "For kissing and romantic purposes."

" _Ooooh_ ," Erin exhales in a instantaneous relief at the realization that this wasn't an accusation but a confession.  Then, as the full truth of the statement sinks in, she repeats, "Oh!"  

She sits up, too, eye level with Jillian, who's big eyed and worried in a way that makes Erin's heart snag, like the next thing Erin says really, really matters to Jillian.  

The realization makes Erin worry, instantly, that she's going to say the wrong thing, so she ends up just blurting out, "That's good because I  _wondered_ why you wanted to watch this movie so bad." 

"Yeah, sorry.  I know that was kinda like  _what the hell?_  But I didn't want to tell you if it was something you thought was gross or bad and I didn't know how to figure out cause I usually know how you feel about stuff but not really this cause it never comes up but I figured maybe the movie would be a way to bring it up - "

"Jillian," Erin cuts her off, a bit alarmed; she was talking really fast.  "I'm never going to think you're  _gross_.  Duh.  And you can always tell me things." 

Jillian's face breaks into this shiny, glowing smile.  "Thanks," she says, so soft and sincere, but then she exhales an over the top breath and faints dramatically back onto the pallet.  

Erin shuts off the TV and stretches out beside her, and for over an hour they talk instead of sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Does your dad know?"

"Nah.  I tell you stuff first.  I'll tell him soon, though."   

"I don't think he'll mind, do you?"

"I don't know.  Probably not.  I'm not that nervous." 

"My parents won't care either."

"I can sleep on the couch if you want me to...or, like, at least not share the bed from now on - "

"Why does that matter, we've been doing it forever." 

"Your parents might make us if they find out." 

"Do you want to tell them?" 

"I don't know.  Do you think I should?"

"I think...I don't want you to have to sleep on the floor." 

"We're sleeping on the floor  _now_." 

"I mean like by yourself.  This is different."

"Yeah."

...

...

...

...

"Jillian?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?"  

"How did you  _know_?" 

"I dunno really.  I think I knew way before I  _knew_ I knew.  Y'know?" 

".....not really." 

"I knew.  But I didn't know I knew, or that it was something to know.  I knew no knowing could know never - "

"Okay, cut it out." 

"Heh." 

"But I honestly want to know - " 

"But do you know you know I know - "

" _Jillian_.  Be serious."

"Fine fine fine fine.  But I don't know _exactly_.  I just never really...looked at boys.  Like  _that_.  And _never_   wanted to kiss them."

"Oh."

...

...

"Is that okay?" 

"Yeah!  Of course."

"Thanks, Erin."  

"Sure.  Thank _you_."  

"Why thank  _me_?" 

"I dunno.  Just cause."

 

"Nerd."  

...

...

...

...

...

...

"Goodnight, Jillian." 

"So long, far _ewellllll, auf Wiedersehen, good niiiiight_."

 

* * *

 

So they start high school with Erin's new knowledge that her best friend is gay, and for maybe two weeks before ninth grade starts, Erin worries about what that will mean, if Jillian decided to say something because she wants to  _do_ something about it.  

Erin really hates the idea of Jillian getting a girlfriend.  It seems worse than a _boyfriend_ , for some reason; like another girl could be her new best friend, too, and she wouldn't need Erin for anything anymore.

But nothing really changes.  It's still just the two of them.  Jillian's still unapologetically weird, and Erin's still quiet and nervous around anyone who isn't Jillian, and the kids in their grade are still mean but it's a bigger building and more possible teachers so sometimes it feels like it's easier to hide.  

And, best of all, high school has more honors level subjects, so she and Jillian have more classes together than they did the last two years of middle school. 

High school also brings electives, classes they actually got to  _choose_ , with a counselor that came around to all the classrooms the last month of eighth grade.  

Erin had been signed up for art, originally - but then she saw the way Jillian got all hunched over and quiet when they walked by the classroom at Freshmen orientation:  her mom's old classroom, her mom's replacement art teacher standing in the hall waving at students. Jillian wouldn't even look at him, or at the part of the corridor where a couple of Maggie Holtzmann's paintings are hanging around a small memorial plaque with her name on it.  

After that, Erin begged her mom to call the school and change her schedule.  

Erin kinda wishes she could have just pick Jillian's electives - it would have been two more guaranteed classes together - but Jillian's taking Auto Shop I and Welding I, and Erin's pretty sure she'd suck at either.

She ends up panic choosing Typing I and Freshmen Choir, and she spends the first month of the latter in the last row, terrified they're gonna make people sing on their own.

Jillian  _loves_ her electives, even though she's the only girl in both.  Auto Shop is her last class of the day, so their bus rides home start to smell perpetually like motor oil, and some of her favorite items of clothing become permanently grease stained.  

Erin turns fifteen, and she likes the way it sounds - firmly, solidly teenage.  She's fifteen and she's only kissed one boy, once, and she and Jillian have collectively decided it doesn't count, but she learned her lesson last Halloween.  

She's not the kind of girl people have crushes on.

But that's okay.

(Most days, that's okay.) 

Not thinking about it, not  _wanting_  it, is way way better than being left alone in a cornfield with a broken arm.

She's getting better at that, the Not Wanting.  As long as Jillian's in it with her, it isn't so hard.

 

* * *

 

 

Once, two months before the end of ninth grade, the school secretary calls to Erin and Jillian's US History class, the last period of the day, and asks for them both to be sent to the office. 

Erin whips her head around, finding Jillian's eyes in a panic; Jillian crooks her elbows and flattens her palms, morphing her face into exaggerated confusion.  

The first thing that flickers through Erin's mind is that basketball game over a year ago.

"Jillian," she says in an urgent whisper as they walk down the ominously empty corridors toward the front office.  "You don't think they know about the locker rigs, do you?  Kyle and Drew's hair, that whole thing?"  

Jillian looks at her, gauging her sincerity, then cracks the hell up.  " _What_?  Erin!   _No_.  That was forever and a week ago, and at a completely different school."  She shakes her head, laughing some more, so much she has to stop and lean dramatically against some lockers.  "Why would you think of  _that_?"  

Erin crosses her arms and scowls.  "Well, it's the only time I've ever helped you break rules."  At that, Jillian makes a skeptical face at her.  "On school grounds, I mean." 

"It's not that.  You haven't done anything wrong, so.  Bet we're not even in trouble."  This is delivered not as reassurance, but with Jillian's bottom lip poking out in an almost disappointed pout.  

Erin still doesn't quite believe it, though, until they make it to the front office and see the other students waiting on the couches: three other kids from their various smart kid classes, including Neil Klein, who always annoyingly demands Erin tell him what she makes on every single test, and hardly ever discloses his own grade back.

Soon, all five of them get called in by Miss Bell, the perpetually beaming guidance counselor, who tells them that, thanks to test scores and teacher recommendations, they've all been selected to attend the Gifted & Talented Symposium for four weeks in the summer.

 

* * *

 

On the bus ride home, Jillian and Erin pour over their brochures.

"Nerd camp!" Jillian grins.  "Geek retreat!  We're going, right?" 

Erin doesn't reply right away.  She's looking at one of the tiny images on the Sciences page of the brochure, two kids standing in front of a giant white board.   "It's a whole month of the summer..."  It'd be the longest she's ever been away from home.

"Yeah, a whole month of us playing college on an actual college campus.  Except even better, because no grades." 

Erin's eyes linger on the first page's description, bragging that only the top students at public schools around the state are invited to participate. 

Jillian elbows her in the side, propping her chin on Erin's shoulder and grins up at her.  The pure delight shining through her smile is infectious; Erin catches it right away.  

Four weeks with a bunch of smart kids who have never heard the Ghost Girl story. Four weeks with Jillian, 24/7, living like roommates.  

"Yeah," she says finally, giving the smile back to Jillian, just as bright.  "We're going.  I mean, if we get parental permission."

"They'll let us go.  Just tell 'em it looks good on college applications and that'll take care of it.  College applications are the most important thing to parents."  She opens the entire brochure, flipping it front to back like she's looking for something. "I hope they still have bonfires and S'mores at night like at camp for normal kids."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Erin, my clueless bi babe ;)
> 
> This was kind of a transitional chapter, but the next one is one I've been looking forward to writing from the beginning so hopefully it'll be up pretty soon!


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